


i don't want you like a best friend

by irridesca



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Constipation, Eventual Smut, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:02:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29133750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irridesca/pseuds/irridesca
Summary: It’s not like she hadn’t seen this coming—Rose reminded her weeks ago that he was invited. It was an inevitability Rey was always going to have to face, but she didn’t think that Rose would be so merciful as to also giveeveryguest a plus one.But Rey can’t really be upset—and she is totally, unequivocallynotupset—that he’s bringing someone because, well.She is, too.
Relationships: Finn/Rose Tico, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 110
Kudos: 397
Collections: To Find Your Kiss: The Reylo Fanfiction Anthology's Valentine's Day Exchange





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anopendoor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anopendoor/gifts).



> Massive thank yous to Sam and Julianne for the beta. This fic would be a total dumpster fire without y'all.
> 
> And to sweet, sweet Ana - I am overjoyed with how much you loved this fic. It was a labor of love (I wrote it in two weeks and was moving during one of them lol) but all of that was totally worth it once I read your comments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is a lyric from [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YSk84jfnk50) extremely relevant song <3

_— **now** — _

  
  


It’s one of those days where the universe seems to be working in Rey’s favor. 

An alarm doesn’t wake her. Instead, it’s the soft light of the morning sun as it leaks through her bedroom window. She unfolds herself from the burrowing warmth of her down comforter and peeks at her phone, a smile tugging at her lips when she sees how early it still is. 

Quiet envelops the neighborhood as Rey enjoys the cup of tea that she drinks every day on her back porch, and it seems to taste richer, like it was brewed specially for this moment. After, she indulges in a half-hour long shower complete with a deep condition and a full shave, and even takes the time to touch up the paint on her toenails whilst sitting on the lid of the toilet, wrapped in a towel. A to-do list hangs from a strawberry-shaped refrigerator magnet, reminding her that she has a brow appointment in thirty minutes, a spray tan at one, and she’s also supposed to pick up Jannah’s dress from the tailor while she finishes up her shift at the gym. 

There’s no traffic as she makes her way across town to the waxing studio, and her esthetician gives her a free lip wax when she tells her about the wedding, and who will be in attendance. 

“We’re gonna get you looking _right_ , honey,” she says, and Rey does not protest. 

She gets to the tanning place a little early and is thrilled when they bump her up the list _and_ give her a complimentary tan-extender cream during checkout. 

The trip to the tailor is painless, and Rey walks back into her house with Jannah’s dress draped over her arm and two hours to spare before she needs to be at the venue. 

The morning’s good fortune continues as she gets ready. The pseudo-updo copied off Pinterest stays firmly pinned to her head, and it’s even somewhat _elegant_ looking. Curls hang down and frame her face, looking whimsical and effortless despite the massive amounts of hairspray that’s holding everything together. The wingtip eyeliner that she normally has to redo at least once is perfect on the first try, and when she smiles at herself in the bathroom mirror, there’s no lipstick on her teeth. Rey doesn’t second guess any of it—just flips the light off and walks back into her room, staring lovingly at the dress that’s spread out across her comforter. 

It had caught her eye at Nordstrom a couple of weeks ago as she was walking toward the Top Shop section (where she could actually _afford_ to shop), and she hadn’t been able to get it off her mind despite trying on seven perfectly fine, reasonably-priced dresses from all the clearance racks. Slowly but surely, she’d subconsciously inched her way back to the dark green velvet that was shiny enough to reflect the warm overhead fluorescents, the statement-making shoulder pads and the high-neck that would perfectly sculpt her jaw. She told herself as she stared that the color didn’t matter, even if it had been the reason she stopped in the first place. So _what_ if Ben had told her once that she looked amazing in green, that it made her eyes pop and turn nearly gold. The fact that it was green was just…a bonus. 

Then she’d looked at the price tag and nearly fell to her knees. The Ronny Kobo number was going to eat up nearly half of her credit limit, but she tried it on anyway, and it hugged her body like it was made for her and her alone. The slit was high enough to make her legs look like they went on for miles; her arms looked sculpted and lean, her waist tiny, and the way it stretched around her butt? That alone was probably worth the hefty fee. 

Despite her general frugality, it didn’t take much to convince herself to buy it. She’d recently been given a merit increase and was likely on track to get promoted in the next quarter, and anyway, she worked _hard_ and deserved to have something in her closet that wasn’t thrifted or forty-percent off. 

She’s grateful to her past-self for the indulgence now, as she stares at it dotingly, because she’s going to look like a total _knockout._

She’s going to look like a total knockout, and it absolutely, definitely, one-hundred-percent doesn’t matter that Ben checked the box marked _yes, plus one_ , on his RSVP. 

It’s not like she hadn’t seen this coming—Rose reminded her weeks ago that he was invited. It was an inevitability Rey was always going to have to face, but she didn’t think that Rose would be so merciful as to also give _every_ guest a plus one. 

But Rey can’t really be upset—and she is totally, unequivocally _not_ upset—that he’s bringing someone because, well. She is, too.

And Snap is a nice guy. He’s tall, doesn’t wear jeans with flip flops despite being an engineer, and he’s held the elevator door for her at least twice. They don’t work on the same team—he’s in Site Reliability and she’s in UX—but she knows through the grapevine that he is good at his job and generally pleasant to be around. And there’s also the fact that he practically beamed with delight when she’d asked him if he’d be her date. 

So yeah. Nice. 

Jannah comes home in a flurry of chaos and panic, running straight to her room after yelling a thank you to Rey for picking up her dress. Within half an hour, she’s back out, gorgeous curves on display in the sleek black number and hair falling down her back like she’d spent the entire day at the salon. When she comes into Rey’s room to ask if she looks okay, Rey nearly laughs. Her roommate has never quite understood that she’s drop-dead gorgeous even on her worst day, and right now, she looks like she’s literally about to walk a runway. 

“Oh, shut it, you,” Jannah chides playfully when Rey compliments her. She leans over to kiss Rey on the cheek quickly before shouting over her shoulder, “I’m gonna go meet Poe for a glass of wine. I need it after the day I’ve had. I’ll see you at the big show.” 

(Rose has already given Jannah one warning about calling her wedding a _show_ , but Rey doesn’t feel the need to enforce that.) 

There’s a knock on the door at 5:36 p.m., and Rey knows exactly who it is. She’s still in a bathrobe and slippers when she opens it, smiling and gesturing for him to come inside. 

He looks better than she’d anticipated—the dark grey suit hangs well on his shoulders, paired with black chinos, and his normally unruly hair is coiffed nicely. All-in-all, she’s pleasantly surprised. Even with him having the good sense to never pair flip flops and jeans, she’d had no idea what to expect fashion-wise from an engineer.

“So obviously, I need to get dressed.” Rey starts back toward her room as Snap sits down, hooking one ankle over his knee. “But please, help yourself to anything in the kitchen—I think there’s some Modelos in the fridge, or some Chardonnay if that’s more your style. I’ll just be a few minutes.” 

He nods eagerly. “Take your time. Weddings always start late anyway, right?” 

Rey chuckles. “Right, yeah. Thanks.” She leaves him then, closing the door behind her. 

The universe gives her another tiny nudge by helping her fasten the neck clasp on the dress without assistance, and then she slips on her favorite strappy nude heels that are equal-parts sexy and comfortable. Then, the look is complete, and as she stares at herself in the full-length mirror that hangs next to her dresser, she knows that she looks beautiful. She’s overflowing with confidence in a way that she hasn’t been in months, possibly _years._

Maybe green really is her color. 

  
  
  
  
  


_— **then** — _

  
  


Poe has a new friend to bring to a social event almost every single week. It baffles all of them, how he seems to have a talent for picking up strays—people passing through Mystic on their way to the city, or staying in one of those quaint Airbnbs in the country to _get away_ from the bustling noises and smog-polluted air. It happens often enough that when he shows up at Rey and Jannah’s National Margarita Day party with his orange and white corgi, Beebee, and a dude no one’s ever seen before, everyone just assumes that he’s another random out-of-towner that’ll be gone by the morning. 

There are enough people at the party that Poe can’t possibly introduce stranger-man to everyone at once, so Rey somewhat forgets that he’s even there. She’s too distracted by the game of beer pong that she’s playing against Finn, who is criminally good and totally kicking her ass. She whines every time he sinks a shot, and pouts the whole time she chugs each cup. Finn just laughs at her and continues to show absolutely no mercy, and when Rose comes over and starts cheering and kissing him on the cheek after every shot made, Rey nearly throws her ball at his head. 

“What’s that, like ten-to-zero?” he asks from his side of the table, where all but two cups remain. Rey’s standing with her hands on her hips, looking down at her last standing cup and the ball that’s sitting in it atop the foamy liquid. She sighs dejectedly and reaches for it, tossing it over her shoulder before chugging down the beer—and her pride—in one go. 

“You’re such a show-off,” she grumbles as she stacks the cup. 

Finn scoffs, that shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. He’s got his arm hanging lazily around Rose’s neck as he retorts, “You’re the one that always wants to challenge _me_. Just face it, peanut. You’re never gonna beat me.” 

Rey rolls her eyes. “We’ll see. St. Patrick’s day is right around the corner.” 

The three of them walk into the kitchen in search of new drinks when Rey sees him again. The stranger. Under the white light, it’s easier to see what he actually looks like—taller than the refrigerator he’s standing next to and maybe just as broad, pale skin in contrast to the mop of black hair that’s long enough to touch his shoulders, and unassuming clothes that might’ve allowed him to blend into the crowd if not for the enormity of his stature. There’s a bottle of beer with the label ripped to shreds hanging loosely in his grip and a flatness to his expression as he half-listens to whatever impassioned discussion is happening between Mitaka and Kaydel.

Rey catches herself staring a second too long and refocuses on her mission to get to the beer cooler without interference, but within seconds, she hears her friend’s voice rise above the vibrating murmur of the kitchen. 

“Rey, can you come here for a second?” Kaydel beckons. “I need another female perspective here.” 

She suppresses the urge to throw her head back in exasperation. The last thing she wants to do right now is kill her buzz during another heated debate about the season finale of a Netflix show she doesn’t care about, or by trying to referee an argument about whether dog people are superior to cat people. She’s looking for a quick exit route when New Guy’s gaze travels from Kaydel and lands on her. There’s a sullenness to the tight line of his mouth, and a hardness in his dark eyes that feels directed specifically at her, like it’s _her_ fault he’s been dragged into this. 

Rey narrows her eyes and walks forward. 

“What are we arguing about tonight?” she asks as she joins the circle. 

Kaydel points to Mitaka and says, “This one seems to think that men and women can never _just_ be friends without either falling in love or falling into bed. I, personally,” she declares, hand to her chest, “think that it’s entirely possible, and anyone who thinks otherwise is over-generalizing and willfully naive. I’ve had plenty of perfectly successful, totally platonic male friendships.”

With a purse of her lips, Rey shrugs. “I’d have to agree.” 

At that, Mitaka huffs. “You’ve gotta be kidding!” 

Rey’s eyes flit to him, immediately indignant. “What?” 

“You are _literally_ the perfect example of why I am in the right here.” 

“What could you possibly be referring to?” 

“I’ve known you almost your entire life, Johnson. There isn’t _one_ man,” he dramatizes this by holding up the number one with his finger and says, “that you’ve been friends with, who hasn’t at least _thought_ about wanting to sleep with you.” 

“Yourself included?” Rey retorts, and Kaydel smothers a snort with her hand. New Guy is still standing to her left, his arms folded tightly over his chest as he looks between the three of them, silently observing the discourse. 

“You wish,” Mitaka guffaws. “No, I mean besides Poe and me. And Hux, I guess. He’s probably completely content to die a virgin.” 

Rey sighs, finally giving into the urge to throw her head back. When brings her eyes down again, Mitaka has his brows kinked, looking at her expectantly. 

“Are you going to tell me I’m wrong?” 

“Well, I’m definitely not going to tell you you’re right.” 

Suddenly, something blooms over Mitaka’s face, and he turns to look at New Guy. 

“Kaydel phoned a friend, now it’s my turn. What do you think, Ben?” 

Ah. So he does have a name. 

For a moment, Ben doesn’t seem like he’ll respond at all. But then his jaw clenches and he tilts his head and lets out a long, contemplative sigh. 

“I think it’s different for everyone. I’m sure there’s some textbook-platonic male and female friendships somewhere out there, totally flourishing. But…” he works his jaw again, pulling his lips back and forth. “No, I don’t think it’s possible. Generally speaking.” 

Mitaka looks triumphant, holding his hands out toward Ben as if showing off a prized cow. “See!”

“And what, he’s the expert?” Rey scoffs. “You’ve known him for like five minutes.” 

“That’s irrelevant. He’s a _lawyer_ from _New York_. He’s more worldly than us.”

“Oh, excuse me,” Rey says derisively. “I didn’t realize we had such a well-renowned scholar in our presence. Tell us, Ben. How did you come to such a conclusion?”

He maintains eye contact with her for a moment and then, “Trial and error.” 

She can’t help but roll her eyes at this. “Let me guess,” she smirks, tapping her chin. “The girl always catches feelings for you, and then you spout some bullshit like, ‘ _oh, I don’t want to risk ruining the friendship_ ’, or ‘ _you could do so much better than me_ ’, right?” She tilts her head. “Or do you exploit it a little so you can fuck them before you send them on their way?”

Amusement crosses his face. “Something like that.” 

Rey shakes her head. “Charming. How lucky they were to have a friendship as rich as yours.” 

Mitaka snorts, hiding the sound quickly behind a sip of beer. 

“At least they went for it,” Ben shrugs. 

She jerks back, eyes narrowing. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“You know exactly what it means.” 

“Please, enlighten me. I’m begging.” 

He sets his beer on the counter, making the task look laborious as he turns his body back to her. 

“I mean, come on. You walk around with your teeth bared, ready for a fight. It’s no wonder you’ve never had a friendship with a guy go any further than that. You’re terrified of it.”

“I am not—”

“You think that men and women can be friends without wanting more because you’d never let yourself be vulnerable enough to _ask_ for more.”

“Look,” Rey spits back, hackles rising. “You don’t know me. I don’t know what weird therapizing shit they do at parties in New York, but you can back the hell off.” 

He picks up his beer again, tipping back the last of it without taking his eyes off her. 

“Truth hurts, sweetheart.” 

“Why don’t you just get the fuck—” 

“Ah! Perfect!” a voice interrupts, loud and singsongy.

Poe walks into the kitchen, standing directly between them, blissfully unaware. “You guys have already met! I was just coming in here to formally introduce you,” he says, putting an arm over Rey’s shoulder and closing the distance between her and Ben. 

Her lip curls slightly when she’s stopped right in front of him, craning her neck up to look him in his stupid, whiskey-colored eyes, and it’s only then that she notices the smattering of moles all over his face. If she didn’t despise him so much, she might find them cute.

But she does. She despises the _shit_ out of this guy. 

“Yeah, Poe. We met. Please tell me that _Ben_ here is another one of your temporary friends that will be on the next flight out tomorrow,” Rey sneers, giving him a once-over as she folds her arms over her chest. 

“Nope!” Poe cheers, and Rey turns to look at him, eyes widening. “Ben and I actually grew up together. His mom used to work with my mom.” 

“What? Why have we never seen him before tonight?” 

“Lived a town over. The Damerons usually came to us,” Ben answers. Rey makes a point of _not_ looking at him.

“That’s because the Organa-Solos were loaded and had a way better backyard,” Poe adds. 

“So, what does that mean?” Rey bites out. “Just visiting? Family reunion?” 

Ben’s eyes drift back to hers. He opens his mouth to answer, but Poe cuts him off. 

“He’s moving here!” 

Rey’s mouth drops open. 

“His mom moved to Mystic a few years ago to be closer to my mom, and now Ben’s decided to take a stab at suburbia, too.” Poe’s beaming at this point, clapping his hands together like a kid on Christmas morning. When she finally manages a glare at Ben, he’s scowling, looking at this friend like he’s ready to clock him in the nose. 

Poe notices the unabashed disdain that’s written all over her face as she processes this new information, and he squeezes his arm tighter around her neck. “Oh, c’mon! Lighten up! New friends, new faces, new stories to hear. Isn’t it wonderful?” 

A pit forms in her stomach at the idea of this guy sticking around for _any_ length of time. He’s clearly got a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas, maybe even more cynical than even she is, which is truly saying something. He’s rude and brash and she absolutely hates that stupid half-smirk that’s formed on his lips.

Rey lets out a deep breath. “Yeah,” she sighs. “Wonderful.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


A lukewarm beer sits in Rey’s palm as she leans against the arm of the couch, distractedly watching Finn wipe the floor with Poe during another game of beer pong. Her mind isn’t tuned in to what’s actually happening—she only knows that he’s getting beaten to shreds because every few minutes he lets out a dramatic groan that echoes throughout the living room. 

Halfway through, her eyes flicker back into focus as Ben approaches the table, leaning over to say something quietly to Poe. She watches her friend’s face shift into exasperation. 

“Fine,” he sighs. “But only if you help me finish this game.” 

Ben glares at him, standing stock still with his hands stuffed in his pockets. 

Rey doesn’t wait around to see what he decides. She lifts off the couch and heads for the front door, and it’s cold enough outside that when she steps out and lets out a breath, she can see the cloud as it escapes her lips. The empty driveway looks like the perfect place for a moment of respite—a thing she feels guilty for wanting, but nonetheless can’t help how unsettled she’s felt since her row with Ben in the kitchen. She’s sitting against the garage door with her knees pulled to her chest when she sees him again. 

He’s zipping up his jacket and tapping at his phone, walking with purpose until he stops abruptly when he spots her, hands falling to his sides. 

“Leaving so soon?” Rey deadpans. 

His eyes narrow slightly, and he sighs. “Are you always like this?” 

She tilts her head. “Always like what?”

Ben waves a hand in her direction. “This. So combative about everything.”

“I’m not combative.” 

He huffs. “You’re about as combative as you are shit at beer pong.” 

“Did you even _attempt_ to make friends here tonight?” she jabs, pushing the spotlight back on him. 

“Sure I did.” 

“Who?” 

“Beebee.” 

“Beebee is a dog.” 

“Still counts.” 

“It really doesn’t.” 

“What do you care?” 

“I don’t.” 

“Could’ve fooled me.” 

“I don’t care. I just think it’s interesting that the person who stood on a soapbox about being vulnerable and unafraid is the same person that didn’t even bother to try opening up to anyone tonight.” 

For a moment, he just stares at her. They hold each other’s gaze, neither wanting to relent. 

“It’s not the same thing.” 

Rey lifts her eyebrows. “Isn’t it?” 

“Do you really want me to try to make friends with your friends? You were about two seconds away from telling me to fuck off.”

“Well, it’s a small town. So as much as I wanted— _want_ —you to fuck off, you won’t get very far if you’re moving here.” 

At this, he deflates slightly. A pang of guilt throbs in her belly, but she ignores it. 

His nostrils flare as a chime sounds from his phone, and they both turn to look as a car approaches the driveway. Ben watches it slow to a stop and then turns back to her. 

“I’ll stay as far away from you as I can,” he says plainly.

Rey keeps her expression cool, emotionless. “Great,” she replies. “Please do.” 

He nods, and then turns on his heel. He walks to the car, gets in and pulls the door shut, all without a second glance at her. 

Then he’s gone—rolling down her street and into the frigid night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rey's dress](https://64.media.tumblr.com/b886290a8103ac4c219c24ec071483fd/393e11058c43f475-53/s640x960/c3e2a4074e0379bf8a04ae86084113c7503acf67.jpg)


	2. Chapter 2

_— **now** —_

Rey is good at a lot of things. 

She can do crosswords in pen, cook a mean stir fry, take shots of tequila without grimacing, and she’s never met a parallel parking spot she couldn’t outsmart. 

But she’s also bad at a lot of things—and _small talk_ might be at the top of that list, so it actually physically _pains_ her when Snap reaches to turn the volume down on the stereo and asks, “So, did you grow up here? I don’t think you’ve ever told me.” 

As a rule, Rey doesn’t talk about herself, but she can’t very well ignore him.

“Yeah.” She nods, wishing that the word would suffice. “I’ve been here my whole life.” 

Thankfully, she’s well-versed in the art of evasion, so she flips his questions back on him after providing more surface-level details about her major in college, and if she enjoys her current role at their company. Much to her relief, Snap is either unaware of her tactic, or is perfectly happy for an excuse to talk about himself. She listens to him ramble about work and the success of his fantasy league and is grateful to not speak for the last half of the drive. 

When her thoughts drift to Ben, and the fact that she’s going to see him within the next hour, a pit opens wide at the bottom of her stomach. It’s all she can do to reel them in and keep them locked away, stuffed in some inaccessible place for the duration of the evening. 

(There’s an errant one that’s harder to get ahold of right now—harder to tamp down—Ben and Rey sitting on the couch for hours, telling each other things they’d never dared to tell anyone else. The sun peeking through the blinds at dawn.)

Eventually, she’s able to grasp that one with her fist and stow it away alongside everything else. 

Rey’s harshly reminded of just how _small_ the wedding is going to be as they pull up—Rose and Finn were both adamant about not turning their day into a spectacle and keeping things extremely intimate, and it’s obvious in the size of the venue and neighboring lot. There can’t be more than a hundred people in attendance. 

It won’t be easy to get lost in a crowd. 

It will be _too_ easy to spot him in one. 

She shoves that thought away too, and thanks Snap when he runs around his Subaru to open her door. Her hand rests at his elbow as they walk toward the entrance, and if he notices her eyes scanning the guests that walk alongside them, he doesn’t say anything. 

Instead, he says, “You clean up good, by the way. That dress is killer.” 

Rey blinks and turns to look at him. “Oh, thank you,” she says. “You, too.” He gives her a half-smile as they near the doors, and the lights that illuminate their path also shine on the stubble that dots his chin. 

Soft white sparkling lights drip from the ceiling as they walk inside, forming a sort of halo around the lobby where guests are mingling. Closed french doors allow a preview of the room where they’ll have the ceremony and reception, and even through the beveled glass, it looks magical. Rey peeks in, a big, giddy smile spreading on her face. 

It’s a beautiful reminder that two of her closest friends are getting married today, committing to love each other for the rest of their lives. She will do well to start thinking more about them and less about the turmoil happening inside her gut. 

But then she turns from the window to take in the buzzing crowd, and there he is. 

He’s striking, with a black suit jacket and a crisp white button-down underneath. There’s an easy smile on his lips as Maz Kanata waves her hands around animatedly at him, indubitably sharing one of her infamous Woodstock stories. Rey can’t help but notice that no one’s at his side. 

She also notices how his hair is perfectly coiffed, and it’s at her preferred length—just grazing the tops of his shoulders. He’s clean-shaven, she can tell even as they stand twenty feet apart, and her mind drifts—without her permission—to the smell of his aftershave. That heavenly mix of clean and _boy_ that always made her want to bury her nose in his neck.

Snap interrupts her prolonged stare when he leans down and asks, “You all good?” 

Rey startles slightly, tearing her gaze quickly from Ben to look at him. She nods quickly, swallowing hard and trying not to grimace at the dryness in her mouth. 

“Yeah, fine. Thanks. How are you?” 

His brows lift. “I’m great.” He smiles and shrugs. “Guess I was right about it starting late, huh?” 

Rey breathes out a chuckle. “Guess so. I’m sure Paige is refusing to let Rose go anywhere until every hair on her head is perfectly sorted.” 

“Who’s Paige?” 

She blinks. “The maid-of-honor,” she says, though she definitely _told_ him about Paige when he asked why she wasn’t actually _in_ the wedding if Rose was one of her best friends. “Rose’s sister, remember? The only one in the wedding party.” 

He nods. “Oh, oh. Right, sorry.” 

“Well hot _damn._ ” A voice erupts from behind her, and Rey smiles and turns around.

“I know you said the dress was beautiful but you definitely didn’t say the dress was drop dead fucking _gorgeous_ ,” Poe declares, arms folding over his chest. “You look like you’re going to the Oscars, not some small-town wedding. Holy shit.” 

Rey blushes at the praise. “Thank you, Poe.” 

“Don’t thank me, babe. Thank God above for giving you an ass that does not quit.” 

She huffs out a laugh, and is on the verge of introducing him to Snap when it happens. It’s like it’s that night in her kitchen all over again, with Ben walking right up to Poe like he’s the only one in the room, leaning down and saying something only for his ears. 

Rey _gulps_. He hasn’t seen her, even though she’s less than six feet away from Poe now. 

“Ben,” Poe chides, eyes drifting back to Rey. “I’m in the middle of complimenting Rey’s dress.” 

If it wouldn’t draw _more_ attention, she would gut punch him for that. Send him right to the carpet, howling in pain as he clenched his abdomen. 

As it is, she can’t do anything but stand there and watch as the comment washes over Ben, and then his eyes slowly move from Poe until they land on hers.

The buzz of the crowd dulls. She can only hear her own breaths, heavy and thick, as they struggle to emerge from her chest. 

The lowlight of the lobby casts his eyes in a dark shadow, blacker than she’s ever known them to be. She knows that if she stepped closer, if she really looked, she’d find that ring of gold that she’s never stopped thinking about. 

She doesn’t step closer. 

Instead, she says, “Hey, Ben.” 

He nods, nostrils flared. 

“Hi, Rey.”

  
  


_— **then** — _

  
  


Ben does _not_ keep his promise to stay away from her. 

The first time Rey sees him after the party, the town is on the edge of a rainstorm and she’s trying to get a run in before the sky opens up. There’s a high school track a few blocks from her house that she loves—it’s usually deserted this early in the morning, perfect for the three miles that she needs daily to clear her head and get her heart pounding. The neighborhood is still sleeping, and she relishes in the quiet. The only sounds accompanying her jog are the loud thrums of singing cicadas and the distant, rumbling thunder of trash pickup. 

She’s a mile-and-a-half in and looping around the top of the track when the chain-link fence squeaks open, and the wondrous tranquility of the morning is completely shot to hell. 

Because there he is, standing at the entrance in workout clothes and running shoes. He doesn’t notice her right away, and starts slowly stretching his arms over his head. She sighs, slowing her pace as she jogs the straight path that will inevitably lead her right to where he’s standing. His head swivels and he finally spots her, and his movements still, arms suspended in the air. 

They’re close enough now that when Ben mutters something that sounds like _fucking fantastic_ under his breath, Rey hears it. 

“What are you doing here?” she asks. 

He blinks at her. “What does it look like I’m doing here?”

“You’re telling me that of all the places to run, you chose _this_ track. At this time.” 

“It would appear so.” 

Rey inhales, pressing her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose. “Why? Why here?”

“I live in the neighborhood.” 

Her eyes shoot open. “You do not.” 

“Would you like to see the lease?” 

“You’re renting a house. Here. In my neighborhood.” 

He shrugs. “It’s a nice neighborhood.” 

“I know it’s a nice neighborhood!” She throws her hands up. “I live in it!” 

“Look.” Ben sighs, raising a frustrated hand to his brow. “You don’t get to bar me from an entire subdivision. Or track, for that matter.” 

“Can’t you just—” She shakes her head. “Do you have to run right _now_? I do three miles here every morning at six.” 

“I need to make it to work by seven thirty and I run six miles, so yeah. I do.” 

Rey stares at him for a moment, flummoxed and unhappy. Finally, she shrugs, defeated. “Fine. Whatever. But this is the only time of day I get to myself and I’d like to keep it that way, so please don’t bother me.” 

Ben huffs, reaching for the headphones that hang loosely around his neck. “Wasn’t planning on it,” he bites back as he plugs one in. 

“Great.” 

“Great.” 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


And so, every morning at six, Rey and Ben run the track. 

They don’t speak—Ben usually has his headphones in before he even gets to the entrance, and Rey makes a point to stretch on the opposite side of the field. His overstretched legs give him the advantage of speed, so he laps her occasionally, but Rey just pushes on and pretends he doesn’t exist. The only thing she can’t deny is the sound of his heavy feet hitting the rubber, so it becomes part of her soundtrack, right alongside the cicadas. 

It’s unusually dark one morning in March, like the sun has decided to hit the snooze button, and Rey is just starting to hit her stride when she hears the familiar squeak of the chain-link gate. Ben’s in her line of sight, already having lapped her once, so she knows it’s not him, and when she looks over her shoulder to see who’s entered, she notices immediately that whoever the man is, he isn’t here to run. 

He’s dressed in a threadbare t-shirt that might’ve been red at some point, and there’s mud lining his pant legs. He’s talking out loud and waving his hands around as he walks through the turf surrounding the track, and a knot starts to form in Rey’s stomach when his volume starts to increase exponentially. Now that she can hear him, she realizes quickly that he isn’t making any sense—he’s speaking in incomplete, incoherent sentences made up of slurs and snarls. He’s unfamiliar, which, in a town this size, is a hard thing to be. 

Rey slows her pace, trying to avoid looping too quickly. He’s hovering near the entrance, walking in a semi-circle as he nods to himself and bursts into an occasional honking laugh. One particular cackle seems to echo throughout the whole clearing, and then he looks directly at Rey as he continues giggling. He waves at her and starts beckoning her to come over to him, and her heart drops. 

She’s so caught up in staring at the intruder that she doesn’t even notice that Ben’s close until he’s right behind her. Rey looks over her shoulder at him and sees that he’s looking at the man, too. He keeps pace with her once they’re side-by-side, his gargantuan legs slowing themselves to a near-walk so he can remain next to her. 

He pulls out one of his headphones and looks at her. “Stay close to me, okay?” 

There’s no bite to his tone when he says it—all of the previous hostility from their last conversation dissipated and replaced with concern.

Under different circumstances, she might’ve laughed at him. Or at least scoffed at his attempt to be a _protector_ , all macho and masculine. But right now, with their feet pushing them closer to this strange, probably heinously drunk man, she just nods. 

She realizes quickly that she’s grateful he’s here. 

She doesn’t want to think about what might’ve happened if he wasn’t. 

They finally arrive a few feet away from him, and Ben moves to stand partially in front of Rey. 

“Hey man,” Ben calls. The stranger whips around. 

“What? What do you want?” 

“We’re trying to exercise here. Think you can take this elsewhere?” 

The man barks out a mirthless laugh. “Fuck off, dickwad. Think you can tell me what to do? Nobody tells me what to do—I rule myself. I make the fucking rules.” 

“That’s great, dude. I’m just asking you to take yourself and your rules a couple blocks that way.” 

“What’re you gonna do if I don’t, big boy? Gonna sic your gal on me? Let her cat claws come out?” He proceeds to meow loudly, gesturing with his hand as if it’s a paw. 

Ben shakes his head. “Nah, I think I’ll just call the cops. Got a good friend there that patrols in the mornings. I’m sure he’d love to take you down to the drunk tank for a few hours and let you sleep it off.” 

This seems to land, much to Rey’s relief. The drunken man sighs, throwing his head back. “Fine, you fucking buzzkills. I’m leaving.” He puts his hands up and starts clomping toward the gate, muttering something about cops being fucking pussies. 

Rey doesn’t realize until after the gate squeaks closed that she’d been holding her breath. She’s got her arms folded tightly over her chest as she stares after him, her bottom lip nearly bitten to shreds between her teeth. Ben, who’s been watching his every step, continues to do so until he’s out of sight, then turns around to look at her. 

Her eyes flit to his, and she watches as his face softens. 

“You okay?” he asks, taking a couple of steps toward her. 

Rey nods. “Yeah. I’m good. That was—” she blinks a few times. “That was weird.” 

Ben chuckles, and it sounds like the rumble of it originates deep in his chest. “He was shitfaced. I’m just glad he didn’t put up more of a fight.” 

“You should probably still—”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll definitely let the cops know. I don’t like the idea of him wandering around our neighborhood.” 

“Me either.” A beat passes, the two of them rocking on their heels. “Do you really know someone patrolling this morning?” she asks. 

A slow smile spreads on Ben’s lips. “I might’ve fibbed about that.” 

It’s staggering almost, the way that his mouth just _does that,_ without warning. She realizes in that moment that she’s never actually seen him smile, apart from the cold, angry ones that she’s been on the receiving end of. This smile is different—it’s easy and natural, it makes him look like a different person. It makes him look warm, like honey and sunshine. 

Rey swats those _thoughts_ away as quickly as they arrived. 

She purses her lips and shrugs. “Well, it worked. A little white lie never hurt anyone.” 

He nods, and starts to walk toward his water bottle and sweatshirt. Rey knows that hers are across the way, waiting for her in the spot she’d chosen to keep her distance from him. Ben gathers his things into one hand and starts to walk toward the gate, making to leave like it’s any other morning. Rey supposes that it is, now, but she can’t let him just _go_.

“Ben,” she calls out, louder than she meant to. 

He turns, looking at her expectantly. 

“Thank you,” she says, and means it. 

For the second time that morning, and the second time since she’s known him, Ben smiles. 

“You’re welcome, Rey.”   
  


* * *

  
  


Ben gets there before she does the next day, and he’s standing in front of the closed gate with his hands on his hips. Rey walks up the hill, ready to push past him and get going. 

It becomes clear within seconds, why he’s just standing there. 

It’s not like she hadn’t _known_ to some extent that the track probably wasn’t just open for public use, given that it’s attached to the school, but there definitely was never a large sign labeled **_NO TRESPASSING_ ** on it before today, nor was there a looped chain securing the gate. 

Rey sighs, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets. “I’m guessing you called the cops?”

Ben nods. He sighs too, shaking his head. “It’s all fun and games until some drunk idiot stumbles in and ruins everything.” 

She chuckles, and he turns to look at her, a hint of a smile on his lips. Rey bites her lip and looks behind them to the empty, darkened street. 

“We could run in the neighborhood, if you wanted.” 

Ben blinks. “We?” 

“I just mean—” she stumbles slightly, “It’s dark, y’know? And clearly there’s some troubled folk around these parts so,” she trails off, shrugging. “I don’t know. It was just a thought.” 

Her meaning seems to become clear to him within moments. It’s like whatever’s left of his animosity towards her quickly fades as he realizes that she’s asking him to run with her in the poorly-lit neighborhood so they can maintain their schedule, but also so he’d have her back, should something like yesterday morning’s encounter ever happen again. 

Ben swallows thickly. “Uh—um, yeah, no—” he attempts, nodding, and looks back toward the street. “That sounds good, actually.” 

Rey rocks back on her heels. “Yeah?”

He looks back at her, and he’s full on _smiling_ again. Despite herself, Rey smiles back. 

“Yeah.” He nods. “Let’s go.” 


	3. Chapter 3

_— **then** — _

  
  


When the chain and the sign barring them from the track is not gone the next morning, or the morning after that, Rey and Ben decide to start meeting under one of the streetlights between their houses. By day three, running in the neighborhood has proven to be surprisingly grueling.

Asphalt is less forgiving than rubber, Rey’s learned, and it’s her ankles that carry the brunt of the transition from the track to the neighborhood—so much so that she’s taken to icing them in the evenings while she watches _The Bachelor_ with Jannah. 

“Or you could just take a break,” her roommate suggests the second time Rey brings out her ice packs. They’re sitting on the couch with mason jars full of cheap rose and a bag of Doritos and between them, and Rey’s got her feet propped up on the coffee table with the packs resting on top of her ankles. 

“You know I get cranky if I don’t work out,” Rey murmurs back, eyes still on the television. 

“There _are_ other ways to exercise, you know.” 

Rey sighs. “It’s honestly fine. I think it’s my toe strike, anyway. I’m probably hitting it too hard.” 

“Is that what Ben thinks?” 

It’s a question buried beneath a question, Rey knows. Ever since she told Jannah about her daily jogs with Ben, she’s been asking a lot more _questions_ about Rey’s cardio routine than she ever had before. 

“No. Ben thinks it’s my shoes.” 

“Well that I can agree with. You’ve had those things since freshman year.” 

“They’re completely fi—” 

“Of high school, Rey. Freshman year of high school.” 

Rey turns to look at her. “I know how long I’ve had them, Jannah. I’m the one that bought them.” 

Her roommate lifts her eyebrows and tosses a chip into her mouth. “Well then,” she says through her crunching, “you also know that there are literal _holes_ in them.” 

“Anyway,” Rey says dramatically, wincing slightly when her legs move as she settles further into the couch. “I’m going to try and adjust my strike to see if it helps. But I appreciate the concern.” 

Jannah’s glare remains on her for a moment longer, and then she turns back to the show. “Fine,” she says, reaching for the half-empty bottle on the table and refilling her glass. “Whatever you say.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Because she’s nothing if not stubborn, Rey tries to pull back on the force of her toe strike the next morning. Ben’s beside her, eyeing her with a wrinkle in his brow as she adjusts herself accordingly, looking a bit like a knobby-kneed colt attempting to gallop for the first time.

After she nearly faceplants on an uphill sprint, Ben stops. “What is happening?” 

Rey rests her hands on her hips, breathing heavily. “What do you mean?” 

He waves a hand toward her feet. “What are you doing with your feet? You look like you’re trying to run underwater.” 

“Oh, that?” She shakes her head. “I’m just trying to lighten my toe strike.” 

“Why?”

Rey looks away from him. “Because my ankles are still hurting at night.” 

“Oh my god,” he groans. “You _know_ it’s not your toe strike that’s making your ankles hurt, Rey. It’s those ancient Nikes with cardboard for soles.” 

She looks up at the purple sky that’s turning gray as light from the waking sun starts to leak in. “My shoes are _fine,_ ” she bites back. 

“Keep telling yourself that. But we’re walking the rest of the route.” 

Rey snaps her gaze back to him. “What? Ben, we don’t—” 

“I cannot in good conscience run next to you knowing that you’re further injuring your ankles with those things,” he juts his chin toward her shoes. 

So they’re not the prettiest—white turned brownish-gray with a smattering of holes in the fraying leather. Rey can feel the texture of the street through the nearly nonexistent soles, but they’re also _hers._ She bought them with her own money after saving for months, and they carried her from foster homes to dorm rooms. They’re a part of her. 

She can’t just throw them away.

“Fine,” she murmurs, stuffing her hands into the pocket of her hoodie. 

Ben nods, and turns away from her. They walk the rest of the way up the hill in silence. 

It’s not an awkward one by any means, but they’ve also never shared this amount of quiet for such a prolonged period before, either. Normally, their breathing and the slap of their shoes on the ground is enough to fill the gap, but now, at this leisurely pace, the silence is deafening. 

Rey breaks first. She keeps her eyes on the sidewalk as she asks, “So, New York, huh?” 

Out of her peripheral, she sees Ben turn to look at her. A moment of quiet and then, “Yeah.” 

They haven’t gotten personal in the week that they’ve been doing this. There’s pleasantries exchanged at the beginning of every jog—and Ben has made a point to call out her shoes at least twice, but other than that, they don’t _really_ talk. 

Maybe it’s the purple morning, or the throbbing pain finally fading in her ankles, or the way it feels like Ben’s body is her own personal space heater, blocking her from the biting breeze. She can’t be certain if it’s one thing or all of them, but Rey finds herself wanting more. 

“What was it like?” 

Ben clears his throat. “Crowded.” 

“Not like here.” 

He barks out a laugh. “No. Definitely not like here.” 

She turns to look at him and finds that dorky grin, full of crooked teeth. His skin looks paler in the low light, making his moles and his hair look almost black. 

“But you liked it.” 

“I loved it. I still love it. There’s—” Ben shakes his head, letting out a small sigh. “There’s nothing like New York. It’s one of those places that kind of… exists in its own reality. Living there is like being in another world.” 

Rey nods, pursing her lips. She wouldn’t know. She’s never been out of the state. 

After a beat, she asks the question she really wants to know the answer to. 

“Why did you leave?” 

Ben’s quiet for a moment, and Rey can see him working his jaw out of the corner of her eye. 

“I promised my mom that I would.” 

For a moment, it seems like he might elaborate. She peeks at him, noticing that he’s still clenching and unclenching his jaw. Rey’s cheeks start to heat up as she realizes she’s blindly hit a nerve somewhere. Communication has never quite been her strong suit—always too brash, too honest, too raw. “Oh,” Rey blurts out. “Is she—”

“Is it okay if we don’t—can we not talk about this right now? I haven’t even had coffee yet.” 

She reels back a little, stomach sinking. “Of course. Sorry. We don’t have to talk.” 

“No, I want to talk. I just—” Rey turns her head to find him looking at his shoes, which are, admittedly, in much better shape than hers. “Not about that.” 

Rey nods, feeling a sliver of relief. “That’s okay. Let’s talk about something else. Let’s talk about…” She taps her index finger against her chin. “Oooh, okay. How about this—if you were given three wishes right now, what would they be?” 

Ben snorts. “Really?” He turns to look at her, all the tension from before fading quickly. 

“Yes, really. This is very important.” 

“Well,” he breathes out. “The first is obvious isn’t it?” 

She blinks at him, and he looks at her in feigned shock. 

“Oh, come on. Everyone knows that when you’re granted three wishes the first thing you wish for is _unlimited_ wishes. It’s the only logical strategy.” 

Rey stares at him for a moment, and then scrubs a hand over her face as she shakes her head. 

“What?” he chuckles. “It’s true.” 

“You are _such_ a nerd.” 

“Maybe so. What would you wish for?” 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, grinning. “Something practical. Like something you hate spending money on but always _need—_ like new tires or something.” 

“You would use a wish from a magic genie on tires.” 

Rey scoffs. “Tires are expensive!” 

Ben laughs, shaking his head. “That is truly something. No wonder you still own those monstrosities,” he says, nodding toward her shoes. 

“Being careful with money never hurt anyone,” she murmurs, feigning an air of sullenness.

“Alright, alright,” he nods and puts his hands up, conceding. “Well, then allow me to use one of my unlimited wishes to acquire you a new pair of shoes. Practical enough?” 

Rey snorts. “Now you’re getting it. Just make sure they’re size nine.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


When she gets in that morning, Poe is sitting at the kitchen island with Jannah, a pot of coffee sitting between them on top of a potholder. 

“Well, hello sunshine,” he says when he spots her. “How was your run?” 

Rey looks between the two of them, knowing instantly that this is another one of those loaded questions they love to ply her with. 

“It was fine, thank you for asking.” 

“Uh huh,” he tuts, taking a sip of his coffee. “And Ben? How is my dear friend?” 

She toes off her shoes and sets them on the rack next to the door before moving to the kitchen for a cup. When she joins her friends at the island and pours what’s left of the pot in her mug, she looks up to find them both staring at her. 

“What? He’s fine. We—well, _I_ asked him about New York today.” 

“No kidding,” Poe utters, sounding amused. 

Rey takes a sip of coffee, relishing momentarily in the comfort and warmth of it as it spreads in her belly. She nods as she sets the cup down, running her index finger over the rim. 

“Yeah, sounds like he really loved it there.” 

“Oh, absolutely. That place like, _screams_ Ben. Everyone is grumpy. Everyone wears black. No one talks to anyone. It’s like the city was constructed specifically for him.” 

“He said it was like living in another world,” she muses, staring at her distorted reflection in the coffee. “I bet it’s beautiful.” 

“Well, he’ll get back there eventually. That’s the plan, anyway. Get things taken care of with the garage. Help his mom get back on her feet. And then leave on a jet plane _._ ” 

Rey looks up from her mug. “He is? Going back?” 

“I mean, he definitely wouldn’t have come back if his father hadn’t passed. I don’t see why he’d stick around permanently unless his mom asked him to. But I can’t really see her doing that—I was honestly surprised she asked at all—she’s just as headstrong and stubborn as he is.” 

Her eyes go wide. “What?” 

It’s like her brain has short-circuited. Poe’s face twists in confusion. “What _what?_ ” 

“His dad died? That’s why he’s here?”

His brows raise. “Yeah, his mom asked if he’d come back and help take care of some things after it happened and Ben was on the next flight out and,” he’s staring at her face as he says this, which she thinks must be morphing into varying levels of shock. “You have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” 

Rey blinks a few times. “No.”

Poe takes a deep breath and smiles. “Well then. Now you know why Ben moved to Mystic, and that I have a spectacularly big mouth.” 

“As if we didn’t know that already,” Jannah says, and Poe narrows his eyes at her. 

“Oh, you’re one to _talk_ , Miss Couldn’t Even Keep the Gender of Paige’s Baby a Secret.” 

They start to bicker, comparing each other’s supreme lack of talent when it comes to secrets, but Rey is barely listening. Her thoughts have drifted back to the run—the walk, technically—and how Ben had seemed suddenly and remarkably _sad_ when she asked him about leaving New York. Her heart squeezes as she wonders how fresh the wound of losing his father is, and she fights a sudden urge to text him that she’s sorry for asking him so many stupid, annoying questions when he’s dealing with something so heavy. 

But she doesn’t have his number, so when they meet up at their designated spot the next morning, Rey blurts out a nervous apology because she’s _Rey_ and she’s never learned the art of beating around the bush. 

“I’m—um, I’m sorry about yesterday. For prying about New York.” 

Ben looks confused for a half-second. “Oh,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s nothing. Don’t apologize.” 

Rey nods, rubbing her lips together. She knows that if she doesn’t tell him that she knows, and he finds out later on, it might be worse. So she stands there, waiting to see if he’ll tell her himself so that she doesn’t have to pretend. But he doesn’t, and Rey is absolutely _shit_ at pretending. It would come out eventually, and she doesn’t think it’s fair to keep him in the dark when she’s been fully enlightened. 

With a graceless, shaky voice, she tries. “It’s just—well, Poe told me about your father and—” 

Ben cuts her off. “What?” 

Rey’s eyes flicker up to his, and her heart starts to thud in her chest. It felt like the right thing to do—to be honest with him, but now she’s wishing more than anything that she could swallow the words back into her mouth. Unring the bell that’s got him looking at her like she kicked his dog. “Yeah,” she continues, trying to salvage anything she can. “I told him that we were talking about New York and he mentioned that you came back because your father passed. I think he assumed you’d told me—”

He’s visibly irritated when he asks, “Why were you two talking about me in the first place?”

“We weren’t, he was just _there_ when I got home yesterday and—”

“And he just decided to tell you all my business.” 

“I’m sorry, Ben,” Rey says sincerely, trying to keep up with his biting temper. “I didn’t mean to get involved in your—” 

“No, this is great,” Ben shakes his head, looking away from her and down the foggy street. “It’s all out in the open now, no more hiding. You know about my dead dad—did he tell you that he dropped dead right in front of my mother, too?” He turns back to look at her. “One second washing the dishes while she dried, next second, dead on the kitchen floor.” 

Rey lets out a shaky breath through her nose. “No, he didn’t tell me about that.” 

“Well, that’s what happened.” Even through the haze of his anger, Rey can hear the unsteadiness in his voice. The rattling hurt that vibrates through his chest. She wants to reach for his hand when she notices it’s trembling. 

Her voice is quiet, almost a whisper when she responds. “That’s awful. I’m sorry, Ben.”

“Don’t be,” he says roughly. He looks down at her shoes and swallows thickly. “Look I—I have a lot of shit going on this morning. I’m gonna sit this one out. Maybe you should, too. Your ankles look swollen.” 

“That’s okay, I think I can make it—” 

He’s walking past her, gritting his jaw. “You need new shoes, Rey,” he bites out harshly.

When she turns around to respond, she sees only his back, walking back in the direction of his house without sparing her a second glance. 

  
  
  


_— **now** — _

  
  


An arch made entirely of flowers stands at the front of the aisle. Finn is beneath it with his hands clasped in front of his body, buzzing with nervous energy as he waits for his bride. Rey watches him with a watery grin, her eyes drifting to Rose’s mother as she walks Lily, Paige’s daughter, down the aisle as she sprinkles white rose petals across the carpet. Then comes Finn’s grandparents, hand-in-hand and both already crying. And then Rey sees Poe’s smile go wide as he says to the room, “If everyone will please stand.” 

The piano that’s accompanied everyone down the aisle so far shifts into a song that is recognizable and heartwarming, forcing the tears that have started shining over Rey’s eyes to spill down her cheeks. She watches as Rose approaches, arm linked in her father’s. She turns toward Finn, and when she sees his face as his eyes land on Rose for the first time, it takes everything she’s got to not let out a full _sob_. 

There’s nothing like seeing love at its strongest. It’s palpable; it coats the air in a hazy warmth that is gentle and comforting, and Rey can feel it wedged deep in her gut—this feeling of belonging that is shared between these two humans. 

She’s happy for them beyond words, that they’ve found each other. 

Rose finally reaches her groom, and for reasons she can’t begin to explain, Rey’s eyes drift to the crowd across the aisle. When she finds him among the other guests, he’s already looking at her. It nearly takes the breath out of her, the way his eyes hold hers, like he was _born_ to look at her like that—to make her feel like the only person in the room. 

She’s not, though. Not by a longshot, she reminds herself, remembering that her date is standing right next to her, paying attention to the wedding just as she should be. It’s _inappropriate_ , the way Ben is still staring, like they aren’t supposed to be witnessing this life-changing event between their friends. 

Rey gulps as she forces herself to finally look away. It isn’t until they’ve started exchanging the vows that she realizes he’s sitting next to an empty seat. 

  
  
  
  


_— **then** — _

  
  


The five forty-five alarm sounds harsher than usual when she wakes up the next morning. 

The pep in her heels is gone—she trudges around her bedroom as she gets dressed, pulling on a still-damp sports bra from the bottom of her hamper, hissing when the cold material touches her body. She yawns through brushing her hair into a semi-secure ponytail, all the while wondering whether she’ll be running with Ben this morning, or if he’s done with their agreement and, by extension, done with her. 

Despite the fact that they hardly know each other, and that they can hardly hold a conversation that doesn’t end in an argument, she hopes that he isn’t.

She doesn’t know what it is, or if it’s too many things, that have her hoping she’ll find him at their spot. She thinks it’s the quiet steadiness of him, the unearned consideration, when she’d given him every reason to never speak to her again. 

Maybe it’s the soft smile, the dimples in his cheeks when he walks under the streetlight where they meet every morning. Or his quiet ‘ _good morning’,_ in that sleepy voice that rumbles and vibrates in her ears. 

Rey catalogues all of this as she pulls on her socks and shoes, lacing them up as tight as they can be and wincing when her knuckles brush against her ankles. She knows that as soon as she opens her door, she can look down the street and have her answer. 

So when she does, and she sees that no one is standing there, a lump forms in her throat. 

Of course he’s done with her. She crossed a line—she was inappropriate and nosy and he has every right to cut ties with her if he wants to. And maybe it’s for the best, anyway, because he’s only going to end up leaving Mystic once he’s gotten things sorted. 

Maybe it’s smart, to cut off their budding friendship now, before he becomes someone she’ll miss once he’s gone. She decides that she can at least try to accept that as she swallows back the heaviness in her throat and suppresses the urge to cry. 

  
  


But then she looks down to the mat in front of her door, and there’s a box sitting on top of it. 

A black box, with a big white checkmark decorating the lid.

A tiny gasp escapes her lips as she crouches down. There’s an envelope leaning against the box with her name written in cursive. Rey opens it, biting her lip to hold back the massive grin that’s threatening to spread onto her face. She pulls a tiny piece of cardstock out of the envelope and sees more near-perfect penmanship. 

_Rey,_

_I’m sorry I was a dick yesterday. I obviously don’t really like to talk about my feelings. Or my parents. But I do like running with you, and I’d like to keep doing that. If you want to._ _However, I’ve run out of patience in regards to your chosen footwear and have taken matters into my own hands. I realize I may be overstepping here and displaying a comical amount of hypocrisy, but I couldn’t stand by and watch your ankles get any bigger._

_Hope you like them._ _If you do, I’ll see you at our spot._

_\- Ben_

Rey sets the card down and stares at the box for a few moments, and then lifts the lid. 

They’re beautiful—lilac and white with lime green accents, and they _smell_ new, like fresh rubber. She runs her hands over the brand new sole, all thick and cushiony.

For the first time since she got them nine years ago, Rey leaves her trusty pair behind and leaves the house in brand new Nike running shoes, feeling like she’s walking on a freaking _cloud_. The bounce in her step is back tenfold, and when she spots Ben under the streetlight waiting for her, there’s no denying the flutter in her stomach as she walks a little faster towards him. 

And those dimples. 


	4. Chapter 4

_— **then** — _

  
  


“Six times?”

Ben nods. 

“Six. Six whole times.” 

“It doesn’t make it any truer, the more you repeat it.” 

“I’m just trying to wrap my head around it.” 

“I was a quiet kid—didn’t get out much, and I really…liked comic books.” 

“Clearly. But why _him?”_

Ben laughs, then shrugs. “Well, I like the color red, first of all.”

“You know Iron Man exists, right?” 

“But I also liked that he was—I don’t know. Kind of like me. A loner. A _nerd_ , as you so lovingly put it,” he explains, turning to look at her. 

After Rey put everything Poe told her on the table, it seems like it’s easier for Ben to truly open up. He doesn’t immediately tell her his life story, or about his family and why he moved across the country from them. But he does tell her things, like how he was dressed up as Spider-Man six years in a row when he was a kid, refusing to even _consider_ anything else. 

“Case and point,” she nods. Ben smooths past it as if she didn’t say a word. 

He tells her about his stellar GPA and graduating with honors from college, and then walking away from law school with a job offer from one of the most prestigious law firms in the country. He’s been with them ever since. There’s less pride in his voice when he describes the job as it is now, and how strange it feels to be taking time off for the first time in years. 

“Are you one of those lawyers that works like, eighty hours a week?” 

“Sometimes. Actually, a lot of the time, yeah.” 

“That sounds awful.” 

He’s quiet for a beat. “It kind of is.” 

She learns that despite his gigantic, ridiculously smart brain, he’s a bit of a luddite—only has a record player in his house, doesn’t watch television, only uses his work laptop out of sheer necessity. When he shows her his phone, she cackles as she holds it up and inspects it, surprised that flip phones even still exist, much less _work_. 

“Oh my god,” she snickers. “Are you eighty?” 

Ben rolls his eyes as he shoves the device back into his pocket. 

He likes music, but only old stuff like Billie Holiday and Perry Como. His favorite food is sushi, which has been a huge pain point for him in Mystic—the closest decent sushi restaurant is at least an hour away. If he weren’t a lawyer, he thinks he’d be a mechanic. 

“Cars are probably the one thing I know better than the law,” he tells her during mile four on a damp Tuesday. “My dad was a total gearhead. I grew up in the garage.”

“Is it weird? Being back there now?” 

She knows that she has to approach this delicately—anything having to do with his father or his family. The only thing she knows about the garage is that he promised his mother he’d keep an eye on it until his uncle Lando arrived, whose ETA is kind of a moving target at this point. 

“It’s…yeah. It’s weird. It’s weird sitting at his desk. Going through his books. Talking to his regular customers. It’s weird taking care of his car—he never even let me _touch_ under the hood of that thing when I was a kid.” 

“It was special to him?”

Ben huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s one word for it. It’s an old YT Series Falcon—he used to _street race_ with it before I was born. Apparently there was this old racing ground called the Kessel Run where it broke some records, and also nearly broke my parents’ marriage.” 

“Yikes.” 

“Yeah.” 

“And now?”

“Now it sits in the lot outside of the garage, collecting dust. I’ve been messing around with it here and there, tuning it up and changing out the brake pads. Haven’t given it a spin yet, though. I don’t—” he trails off, and Rey turns to see his nostrils flaring. 

Ben looks at her after a moment and sighs. “I don’t know if I can do it. Drive it for the first time without him. I’m afraid it’ll feel…wrong. Like it’ll know I don’t belong in the driver's seat.”

Rey nods and offers him a reassuring smile. “You’ll drive it when you’re ready. Or maybe you won’t ever drive it. But you coming back here and taking care of all of this—” Rey shakes her head, eyes drifting back to the street. “It’s good, Ben. You’re doing right by him. I obviously didn’t know him or anything, but I’m sure he’d be proud to see you behind the wheel.” 

He doesn’t say anything, but she can feel him looking at her. 

Eventually, she turns to grin at him, and finds that he’s staring at her intensely—like she’s just spoken to him in a foreign language. Rey just smiles bigger. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Strangely enough, Rey learns that she also doesn’t _hate_ telling Ben things about herself. 

She appreciates the way he wades through the waters with surface-level questions first, an art that she has never mastered. She tells him about college—how she studied computer science while working two jobs and still managed to squeak by with a 3.8 GPA. 

“I’m going to be a UX Designer,” she declares. “I’ve already got all the certifications that I need, now it’s just time to start applying for jobs.” 

“Does that mean if something happens to my computer, you can come rescue it?” 

Rey laughs. “A UX Designer is not the same thing as IT, Ben.”

“Is that a no?” 

She shakes her head. “Sure, fine. But should this ever occur, I require payment in the form of pizza. Lots of it. With extra pepperoni.” 

Ben ducks his head and smiles. “Noted.” 

They stumble onto the subject of her childhood after he explains how much he hates the beach, recounting an incident where he got _far_ too much sand in his wet swim trunks and never truly recovered. When her laughter dies down, he asks her if she likes to go. 

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been.” 

He turns to look at her. There’s a few long seconds of quiet between them, and then he finally asks, “Did you grow up here?” His voice is gentle, like he’s suspected all along that _this_ particular topic might be a sensitive one, considering how diligently she’s avoided it. 

Rey swallows thickly. “I—uh, I was actually a foster child. I bounced around the state for a couple of years when I was really little, but I got to Mystic when I was seven. Got placed in a children’s home, and that’s where I stayed until I turned eighteen.” 

Ben’s quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry, Rey. I didn’t know—” 

“Nah, don’t be sorry. It is what it is, you know? I made it out okay.” 

“Better than okay, I’d say.” 

She peeks over at him and he’s looking at her with no small amount of fondness. 

“Thanks,” she says softly. 

At the end of their run that day, Rey asks Ben if she can see his phone again. He looks at her quizzically as he hands it over, as if preparing himself for another round of ribbing. 

It’s another step for them, she thinks, as she plugs her number in using the T9 keyboard, and she’s grateful after messing up once that there are only three letters in her name. When she hands it back to him, the remnants of his confusion still remain. 

Rey shrugs. “Just for—you know. In case of technological emergency.” 

His confusion fades, and it’s replaced with something akin to joy. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


When the text chime sounds from the coffee table, Rey’s already three hours into her lazy, rainy Saturday on the couch—complete with cartons full of spicy noodles, more eggrolls than anyone should ever be allowed to consume, and a Friends marathon on TBS. 

She leans forward to see who it is and notices that it’s an unsaved number. 

**_I think I murdered my laptop._ **

A smile spread across her face almost instantly. 

**Did you now?**

Another chime, within seconds. 

**_Well, the screen is blue._ **

Rey snorts. 

**Have you tried turning it off and turning it on again?**

**_Do you really think so little of me?_ **

She throws her head back and laughs. 

**I’m honestly shocked that you’re even able to text. Did you try it or not?**

A few minutes pass as Rey waits for a response. Since he’s using that archaic piece of machinery, she doesn’t see the grey bubble that indicates he’s typing.

Finally, it swooshes in. 

**_Fine. No. But I just did, and still nothing._ **

Rey looks down at her outfit—her Walmart sweatpants and faded red bralette are undeniably the most comfortable things she owns, but probably not the best rainy day attire. She peeks back to her room, biting her lip. She shoots off another text just to be sure. 

**Are you asking me to come look at it?**

**_Isn’t a blue screen the universal sign of technological emergency?_ **

She giggles, bottom lip still stuck between her teeth. 

**I guess you’re right. I’ll be there in five.**

Kicking the throw blanket off her legs, Rey swings them over and remembers an extremely important contingency in their Ben vs. Technology arrangement. 

**Also - don’t forget. Extra pepperoni.**

Sweatpants are already on the carpet, jeans halfway up her legs when the phone dings again. 

**_I didn’t forget._ **

Another swoosh.

**_In fact, I’m looking at the pizza tracker right now and it’s already baking in the oven._ **

Though he’s only one street over, walking into Ben’s house feels disorienting—like she just stepped into another city. Where her rental still has pale oak cabinets and plastic appliances, his is completely updated with marble countertops and stainless steel, and light fixtures that look like they belong in a museum instead of hanging over his kitchen table. 

Ben ushers her in and asks if she wants a beer. She says yes as she sets her bag down on the expansive island that sits in the middle of the room and leans on her elbows. 

His back is turned to the fridge as he reaches in for two longnecks. 

“Nice place,” she says, surveying the living and dining room that complete the open space. 

“Thanks,” he replies, turning to hand one to her after popping off the cap. 

Rey takes a long pull and sighs after she gulps it down. “So, where is it?” 

At first, his face is blank, like he isn't exactly sure what she’s referring to. Then he seems to remember himself—he nods and sets his beer down. “Right, hang on,” he says as he scurries off down the hall connected to the living room. 

When he returns with a matte black laptop that’s at least a foot long, Rey’s nose scrunches. 

“Jesus. Do you own _anything_ that was made after 2008?” 

He glares at her as he opens the thing, the weight of the lid heavy enough that he has to actively _pull_ it to get it upright. 

“This is a nice laptop,” he argues, staring at it. The blue screen appears immediately. 

Rey clicks her teeth, shaking her head as she approaches it. “All that money at that law firm and they can’t even afford to get you guys MacBooks?” 

“They…did, actually,” he admits rather sheepishly. Rey turns to look at him. “They told us we could choose between a Mac or PC, and I chose a PC. And then—” 

He trails off, looking regretful. Rey lifts her eyebrows. “And then?” 

Ben’s grimacing as he turns back toward her. “And then they offered to upgrade me a couple of years ago and I said that there wasn’t anything wrong with my current machine.” 

At the admission, Rey sighs. Her eyes slide shut, and she reaches blindly for her beer and takes a nice, long _chug._ After, she sets it down with a clank and pins him with a glare. 

“You are absolutely hopeless, Ben Solo. Do you realize that?” 

As guilty as he looks, a hint of a smile crosses his lips and he nods. 

“Trust me, I know.”

She turns from him, satisfied, and sets forth on her rescue mission. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


The second time she goes over, which is requested because his turntable has started hiccuping no matter what record he puts on, they talk on his couch until the sun comes up. 

She tells Ben things that night that she’s never told anyone—about how she remembers her mother’s face, but not her smile, and remembers exactly how tall the policeman had seemed when she’d opened the front door on that dreadful night and found him staring down at her. She tells him about how she's never met her father, how she isn’t sure if her mother even knew his name. She tells him about how she still has a lingering fear, deep in her belly, that the shoe is going to drop. Even though she _wears_ the shoe now—has a house and a car and a college degree—the dread still looms over her constantly. 

“Do you think that’s part of it—the whole, not wanting to be more than friends with anyone?” 

At first, Rey’s confused by his question, and it probably shows all over her face, because Ben swallows hard, sitting up a little straighter. “The thing that we argued about, in the kitchen. When I said you were, um—terrified. Of wanting more.” 

Rey’s jaw clenches as she considers his words, letting her brain connect dots that maybe weren’t as clear before this moment. Her eyes flit down to her hands in her lap, gripping the woven throw blanket that covers her legs. “Yeah,” she says softly. “I’m sure it doesn’t help.” 

She feels more than sees his body lean slightly forward. “I know what it’s like—sort of,” he adds gently before clearing his throat. When she peeks up at him, a sympathetic smile is on his lips. “The waiting for the shoe to drop thing.” 

“You do?” 

He nods, and goes on to tell her about how he never truly felt at home in his own house. He tells her about the fighting—the nights when he couldn’t sleep because the walls were too thin to block out the screaming. He tells her about memorizing his father’s back as a boy, remembering in perfect detail how his favorite vest hung over his shoulder blades, because that was the side of him that he saw the most growing up. “My whole life,” he says quietly, leaning up against the opposite arm of his plush leather couch. “He always had one foot out the door.” 

Rey nods, understanding all too well the feeling of a parent only half-caring. The empathy vibrating under her skin makes her want to reach for him, to grab his hand and let him know that he’s not alone in this—that just because his dad only half-cared half of the time, doesn’t mean that he didn’t love him. At least, that’s what Rey wants— _has_ to believe is true. 

For his sake, and hers. 

“I probably sound like such a whiny baby right now, complaining about my childhood when you—” Ben trails off, turning away from her. She watches as he shakes his head quickly. “I shouldn’t, I mean. Complain. About having two parents and a house and food on the table—” 

Rey cuts him off. “You don’t have to do that, Ben.” 

He turns his head to look at her again, but says nothing. 

“The thing where you downplay your own trauma just because I have some, too. The severity...and circumstances of mine don’t invalidate yours.” 

It’s there again, suddenly—that burning intensity in his eyes, like she’s just rattled off something in French that he can’t even _begin_ to understand.

“Loneliness doesn’t discriminate,” she says. 

Finally, he nods slowly. A long, heavy breath leaves his nose, like he’s finally giving himself permission to feel it all.

They don’t just listen, waiting for the other to finish. They _hear_ each other. She feels raw and vulnerable at the end of the conversation, like an exposed nerve, but she doesn’t feel unsafe, or compromised. Instead, it’s like she’s insulated, muffled from the chronic, stabbing pain of her past. Like finally saying all of it out loud dulled the sharpness of it, even if only temporarily. It’s unlike anything Rey’s ever experienced, even with Rose and Jannah. 

It’s terrifying and wonderful all at once, and Rey isn’t sure what to make of it.

Soon enough, Ben runs out of electronics to blame for asking her to come over. After his laptop mysteriously crashes for the third time in four weeks, she decides to level with him.

Because frankly, Rey enjoys spending time at Ben’s house. She likes that they listen to records and eat pizza, or sometimes pho, or burgers, and she likes that they talk. A lot. And on top of that, she doesn’t know how much longer she’ll have with him. They don’t talk about it much—him going back to New York—but she knows that’s his plan. 

New York is everything to him, and Mystic is and always has been temporary. 

But Rey will take what she can get. 

“You know, we can just hang out,” she suggests with a mouth half-full of french fries. 

Ben kinks an eyebrow. “What was that?” 

Rey rolls her eyes and swallows. “I said we can just hang out. You don’t have to keep breaking things to get me to come over.” 

He tries to feign ignorance for a few seconds, but she doesn’t let him. Rey tilts her head, challenging him, and lifts her eyebrows expectantly. 

Ben’s pseudo-confusion fades into something softer, happier. 

“Okay. I won’t keep breaking things.” 

Rey smiles. “Good. I’m sure your laptop will appreciate that.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


One crisp Sunday evening in April, he calls her instead of texting. 

She’s sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop out, going through emails and getting her calendar organized for the week when her ringtone erupts through the silence, making her jump. 

Confused, she presses the phone to her ear. “This is new.”

She expects that he’ll have a snappy retort about experimenting with different avenues of communication, but instead, his voice is uncharacteristically soft and rough. 

“Hey, Rey.” 

Rey sits up a little straighter in her chair, pulling her leg closer to her chest. “You okay?” 

Silence stretches over the next few seconds, and Rey’s heart starts to pound. 

“Ben?” 

“Do you—” he attempts, sounding more wrecked with each syllable. “Would you want to come hang out for a while? We could order in from that new Italian place on Westover?” 

Rey blinks, looking at her laptop and her half-completed calendar. Sunday nights are typically reserved for laundry and prepping lunches and egg muffins, but there’s something in Ben’s voice that tells her this isn’t just a run-of-the-mill Sunday for him. 

“Sure, yeah. That sounds great.” 

She hears him breathe a small sigh of relief, and her heart squeezes. “Okay, great.” 

“Is everything okay?”

Ben clears his throat. “Yeah, no—everything’s fine. I just…” he pauses, and then, “I need a friend tonight.” 

He doesn’t have to say anything else. She’s up and out the door before she even hangs up. 

The menu for the restaurant is already spread out on the island by the time she walks inside, and Ben’s holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he flips through the pages. 

She hears him order mozzarella sticks, calamari, and then what sounds like one of every type of pasta. He’s quiet for a second before he looks at her and says, “Do we want extra garlic bread?”

Rey tilts her head, hoping it says _duh_ in the nicest way possible.

Ben smiles and asks for two extra helpings. 

He sets the phone down on the counter when he’s done and presses his palms into the edge of the marble. Rey can tell just by looking at him that he’s tense—his shoulders look like they haven’t relaxed all day, and the veins on his neck are protruding more than usual. He turns to look at her and must notice the concern on her face as she looks him over, because his face softens. Before she can ask what’s going on, Ben sighs and swallows hard.

“It’s my dad’s birthday today.”

Rey sucks in a breath. “Oh.” 

“Yeah.” He nods. 

“Are you okay? Is your mom—” 

“She’s with the Damerons. They invited her—us, really, over for dinner and margaritas but—” Ben shakes his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to be there, pretending like it was any other day. I know they mean well and I’m glad she’s getting her mind off of it but—” 

“I get it,” Rey says softly, and Ben looks relieved. 

“I also, um. I have something to show you.” 

“You do?” 

A flicker of a smile crosses Ben’s lips and he lifts off the counter, walking toward the living room. Rey sees it before he calls attention to it, and her jaw drops. 

“You _didn’t_ ,” she says dramatically, looking at the brand new flatscreen that’s sitting atop a now repurposed end table. Her eyes are wide with wonder as her gaze flits back to him. 

She finds him looking at her and not the TV. 

“It’s one of those _smart_ ones. With like, Netflix and stuff. I think.” 

“This is fantastic. Now we can watch New Girl and Parks and Rec. And The Office!”

“Are those TV shows?” he asks innocently, and Rey shakes her head. 

Instead of giving him shit, she steps forward and lifts onto her tiptoes so she can wrap her arms around his neck. The action seems to knock the breath out of Ben, who stands there like a statue for a good five seconds before letting himself melt into her. He pulls her closer, circling his arms tightly around her middle. Rey smiles when she feels him duck to rest his face in the crook of her shoulder. Ben pulls back first, and Rey follows suit. 

“That color looks amazing on you,” he says roughly, eyes traveling down to her dark green long sleeve. When they return to hers, he seems to search them, like he’s looking at them for the first time. “It makes your eyes look so green. And kind of gold. It’s—” 

Rey wants to snort, or say something about how it’s a five-year-old shirt from a clearance bin at Marshall’s, but she doesn’t. She stays quiet, and watches as Ben appears to forget what he was saying entirely. She smiles, and slowly pulls her arms from around his neck. 

“Thanks,” she says softly. 

He nods, and then clears his throat. He jerks his head toward the couch and says, “Shall we?” 

She bounces over, plopping down onto the shiny leather. “We shall.” 

They watch the first two episodes of New Girl while they wait for the food. When it finally arrives, Ben spreads it out along the coffee table, popping open each container with pride and describing them all, seemingly smitten with himself for acquiring a whole page of the menu. Rey’s mouth waters as he tells her about the carbonara, the cacio de pepe, the bolognese, the squid ink, and the four cheese lasagna. They demolish most of it within the hour, and Rey’s leaning back with her hand over her belly after managing one last piece of garlic bread. 

“Five stars for Little Tony’s,” she says in a half-groan, wincing at her fullness. 

Ben’s in a similar position, his head tilted to the side so he can look at her. Something occurs to Rey then, and she leans forward to grab the remote so she can mute the television. He follows her movement with his eyes, and when she presses the button, his brows knit together. 

Rey sets the remote down beside her and shrugs. They’re facing each other now, their faces only a few inches apart when she says, “I kind of miss just talking to you.” 

“You do?” he nearly whispers. 

He’s looking at her with enough intensity to make her cheeks heat. Her heart skips a beat when his eyes flicker down to her lips. She panics slightly, not trusting herself to hold back, and turns away from him. 

“Yeah,” she breathes. “Tell me something about your dad.” 

She can feel his eyes still on her, and she wonders if he feels it too—if he’s as disappointed that she pulled away as she is. After a beat, he clears his throat and turns his gaze to the ceiling. 

“He was a compulsive gambler.” 

“A compulsive gambler _and_ a street racer?” she asks dramatically. 

Ben chuckles. “Yeah. A real scoundrel.” 

He’s quiet for a second, and Rey can see his hands fidgeting in his lap. She wants to reach for one, but she stays where she is, paralyzed by her nerves. 

“He had this pair of gold dice that used to hang around the rearview in the Falcon. He’d carry them with him everywhere—and he had this _thing_ he used to say, whenever anyone would try to rationalize with him, or get him to understand the risks of a bet, or a trade, or whatever shady shit he was into at the time.” 

Rey looks at him then, and she can see that his eyes are shining. There’s red splotches blooming in his cheeks, and his restless hands have become tight fists. He takes a deep breath, and smiles, but it’s pained. Sadder than a smile should ever be. He turns his head, and she watches a fat tear slide down his cheek. 

“ _Never tell me the odds,_ ” he says, voice breaking. 

Pure instinct pushes her to cup his face in her hand as a tightness forms in her throat. He’s about five seconds from crumbling, and she might fall down with him. He looks surprised at first, a sharp inhale of breath sucked in through his nose. They’ve never touched—outside of the hug they shared tonight—and even instinct seems to become overshadowed by fear the longer he stares at her with uncertainty. But then, he closes his eyes and leans into her touch. 

Rey watches it all, hand suspended in place, and swallows hard. 

After a moment, he slowly blinks them open. “I’ve never told anyone that,” he says. “I’ve never told anyone anything about myself, really.” He gulps. “Just you.”

Rey smiles gently, rubbing her thumb across his cheekbone. Ben sighs. 

Before she can even contemplate how to respond to his soft, gentle sweetness, he lifts a hand to her wrist, securing her hand in place while he turns his head. The sensation of his lips against her palm almost makes her hiss in surprise. He kisses the skin there, warm and wet and firm.

When he turns back to face her, Rey’s breathing heavier, chest rising and falling as they hold each other’s eyes. It’s hers that flit down to _his_ lips this time, and Ben doesn’t give her the chance to panic. He leans forward and presses them into hers, breathing in sharply through his nostrils as they fold together. 

Rey hums, eyes falling shut. Her hand pushes back into his hair, nails digging into his scalp. Ben moans into her mouth, swiping his tongue across her bottom lip as he reaches for her waist, pulling slightly until she understands what he’s asking for. She lifts a leg up and swings it over his lap, straddling him and never once removing her mouth from his. Both hands are in his hair now— _has it always looked this soft?—_ and Ben’s running his hands up and down her back as his tongue rolls against hers. He bites her bottom lip and Rey grinds into him, nearly throwing her head back at the friction. She can feel the tent in his jeans growing—

It occurs to her the moment Ben’s hands move to her hips that she’s never felt like this before, so precious in someone’s hands. Wanted and seen. It’s terrifying on its own, and then coupling all of that with the fact that she knows Ben is going to leave at some point in the near future—the harsh reality of it comes crashing down, like a bucket of frigid water being dumped over her head. Her heart feels raw and open, like she’s willingly setting it onto a chopping block.

Everything starts to make sense very quickly. 

This is why she doesn’t do more-than-friends. This is why she protects herself from letting people in. Because _this_ is what she was missing, and now, as fire licks in her veins and heat builds slowly and deliciously in her belly with each rough swipe of his hands over her skin, Rey knows that she wants this more than she’s ever wanted anything. 

And that’s precisely why she pulls her lips away from his and squeezes her eyes shut. 

“What is it?” he gasps. “What’s wrong?” 

Rey shakes her head quickly as she lifts off of him. “Nothing’s wrong. I just—” she stammers, backing away from him. He hasn’t moved, hands still in position to hold her, but his face is wrought with confusion and worry. 

When she says, “I can’t do this,” the worry shifts into hurt. 

He sits up quickly. “I’m sorry, I thought you wanted—I should have asked, I’m sorry, Rey—” 

“No, no, please,” she puts her hand out. “I did. I do—” she blurts, but backpedals quickly, moving to grab her keys and her bag. “I just can’t. I promise it’s not you.” 

“Where are you going?” He stands from the couch, and Rey’s back hits the front door. 

“I have to go. I’ll see you in—” No. She can’t, not tomorrow. There’s no way. “I’ll text you,” she says instead, not wanting to make a promise she can’t keep. 

Ben looks like a kicked puppy as he nods, and quietly says, “Okay.” 

She opens the door without looking at him, and steps out into the night. She makes it to the streetlight where they meet every morning, and leans into the metal pole and sobs. 


	5. Chapter 5

_— **now** — _

  
  


Rey is going to kill Rose. 

Not tonight, obviously—she’ll let her enjoy her evening of marital bliss _and_ will even be gracious enough to let her attend her honeymoon—but a week from now? When she gets back from Maui all sunkissed and smiley, with her brand new doting husband at her heels? 

That’s when Rey will strike. Rose won’t even know what hit her. 

She’s plotting this from the second she sits down in a clear plastic chair at table eight, right in front of her name card. Table eight, as it so happens, is less than six feet away from table nine, where Ben is currently pulling out his own plastic chair, and sitting in front of _his_ name card. 

The chair to his left is empty. 

And it also _just so happens_ that their assigned seats—assigned, or at the very least, _approved_ by the bride—are both on the corners of their tables, so when they sit down, only those meager six feet stop them from being shoulder-to-shoulder. Snap, who is completely unaware of this fiasco, sits to her right, and Ben to her left. Rey blows out a breath as soon as he’s seated, looking straight ahead at the dance floor that sits in the middle of the room. 

He looks out into the empty space, seemingly unaware of her proximity to him, and his profile is just as she remembered it—angular and striking, all hard edges except for those lips that seem to always be pout—

Okay. She is _absolutely_ going to kill Rose. She thinks she might even get away with just cause.

All of the other guests start to file into the reception hall, taking their seats. Poe sits across from Ben, and an older gentleman sits next to him, further enforcing the notion that he didn’t actually bring anyone as a plus one. Rey wonders idly if Rose _knew_ about this change and just omitted it entirely, or if he’d actually planned to bring someone but it fell through at the last minute. 

In any case, it doesn’t actually matter. It’s not like he wants anything to do with her, anyway. Not after how they—how _she_ left things, that night in Poe’s driveway. 

“Looks like we’re up,” Snap says, breaking her from the haze of her thoughts. Rey turns to look at him and he’s already pushing his chair back, ready to follow the rest of their table as they shuffle over to the buffet. She watches with no small ounce of regret as the wedding planner moves to table nine and tells them to follow. 

And that’s how she ends up standing, shoulder-to-shoulder with Snap, right in front of Ben. 

Because it would be _more_ awkward if she said nothing, Rey looks over her shoulder and smiles. 

“Hi again.” 

Ben’s eyes flicker to hers from where they’d been scanning the food, and he nods. 

“Hey.” 

“Having a nice time?” 

Another nod. “Sure. Weddings are always fun.” 

They take a step closer to the table as Rey kinks an eyebrow. “Weddings are always fun? I thought you hated big social—” 

Her question dies in her throat as Snap turns, now fully facing Ben. Rey follows suit, slightly confused, and then she’s right in front of him, within arms reach. She remembers the feeling in her neck—the way it has to stretch to accommodate his height. She finally realizes that Snap is looking at her, and it dawns on her. She shakes her head quickly, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Oh, God, sorry. I’m so rude—this is Ben,” she gestures with one hand toward him. “His mom lives here in town and his uncle runs their family’s garage in Norfolk.” 

Her date’s eyes start to move between her and Ben. When Rey looks at Ben, he’s got his brows lifted in expectation. Just staring at her. With those eyes. 

With all that honey gold, swirling with flecks of olive green. 

Snap clears his throat.

Oh. _Duh._

“Sorry. Jesus. Ben, this is my co-worker—” 

And because luck has never truly been a thing that Rey can hold onto for long, if ever, she completely blanks. Like full on, tape erased, motherboard fried, slate wiped clean, forgets his name entirely. He could be Steve or Joe or Mark or fucking _Jacoby_ for all she knows, and the way her jaw is hanging slack displays the gap in her memory better than her lack of words.

She watches a hint of confusion and irritation flash over his face, and then he turns to Ben. 

“Hey man, I’m Snap,” he says, putting his hand out. 

Rey finally lets out a breath before closing her mouth. _Snap._ Goddammit. How could she forget a name as unique and ridiculous as Snap? 

Ben reaches and takes it, giving it a firm shake. “Ben.” 

“Nice to meet you.” 

They let go, and Ben nods. 

When they reach the buffet, Snap isn’t looking at her anymore—instead focusing solely on scooping large amounts of salad onto his plate. She doesn’t think much of it—he’s allowed to be annoyed that she forgot his name—but then she’s actually brushing elbows with Ben as she picks up the plastic tongs and starts scooping romaine onto her plate. 

He’s quiet, dutifully loading up his own with spring mix. 

(Of course. He always seemed very health-conscious, apart from those nights when they’d stuff themselves to the brim with carbs and dairy.) 

She can't help herself. Truthfully, when it comes to him, she’s never really been able to. 

Snap moves down to the protein, eyes still glued to the table, leaving the two of them standing in front of an array of side dishes. 

“No hot date tonight?” she asks him without looking up. 

After a beat, Ben says, “Not tonight.” 

Rey scooches down again, noticing only once she gets to the protein that Snap is long gone, back at the table with a mountain of skirt steak and mashed potatoes in front of him. 

“It’s just that—” she stumbles, as she tends to do with Ben, and piles on a few strips of grilled chicken to give herself a chance to recover. “Well, Rose said you’d RSVPed with a plus one, so I just assumed—” 

“Did you ask her if I did?” 

At this, Rey looks at him, a tongs suspended in mid-air. 

“No,” she snaps back, shaking her head. “She _told_ me.” 

He stares at her evenly. “Ah.” His eyes drift to her hand, and she remembers herself. 

He’s quiet next to her for a moment, but then says, “I was planning to bring someone. But it didn’t work out.” 

  
  


She isn’t quite sure if she wants to know the answer to her next question, but she asks anyway. “Someone from New York?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Oh.” She nods, inching closer to the end of the table entirely. “Is it your girlfrie—” 

“No.” 

Word vomit continues—at this point, she isn’t sure if her brain is even _connected_ to her mouth anymore. “Something newer?” she blurts out, “a Spring fling—” 

“What are you doing?” he asks suddenly, cutting her off. 

Rey turns to find him staring at her again, all thoughts of food abandoned. 

“What do you mean?” 

“This,” he waves his free hand between the two of them. “Grilling me about my romantic life. What makes you think you can do that, after everything?” 

“Ben—” 

“You didn’t want this, Rey.” He says it evenly, but there’s a roughness to his tone that wasn’t there before. “I wanted to give it to you. I wanted to give you every—” 

His eyes fall from hers. His voice fades, and he shakes his head, almost like he’s disappointed in himself, more than anything else. After a moment, he looks up again, and pulls in a breath through flared nostrils. “I don’t know what you want from me. You show up here with some random dude and then give me the third degree about why I’m here alone?” 

It’s like her heels are glued to the tile. Only when he jerks his chin in the direction of the table does she realize she’s holding up the line—the other guests from Ben’s table looking on at the two of them with impatient curiosity. She finally moves, but even then, it feels like she’s got glue spread on her soles. 

As they reach the end, out of the way and with nothing between them anymore, Rey lets out a regretful sigh. “Ben, I didn’t mean—”

“Can we just—” he sighs. “Let’s just eat, okay? I’ll sit at my table, and you sit at yours.” 

Rey blinks, unable to look away from him.

“Okay,” she says softly. 

He nods, and then they both retreat to their assigned seats. 

  
  
  


_— then —_

  
  


Spring seems to turn into Summer within days, which makes evening runs absolutely miserable. 

They disrupt her flow, too—Rey’s always been a morning person, chipper before the sun has even risen, and also loves to have quiet evenings to herself, where she can eat an early dinner and be in bed by nine. Running after work, especially now that she’s started an internship with the software company she’s been eyeing since graduation, is extremely taxing. 

But the alternative, running with Ben, isn’t something Rey thinks she can do.

She’s not ready to face him, after running away without even a hint of an explanation. 

And ever since that night, things have been different. 

And by different, what she actually means is nonexistent. 

It’s only been two weeks, but it feels like an eternity, considering how much time they were spending together before it all went to shit. She’d texted him the morning after she fled his house and told him that she was going to forgo their run, making up some excuse about achy knees, and then sent something similar the next morning, and then again and again until he finally stopped responding. 

The hardest part of it all is that when she got the email confirming her acceptance to the internship, he was the first person she wanted to tell. Not Rose, or Jannah, or Finn or Poe.

Ben, with his overwhelming sincerity and his big, dorky smile. 

She wanted to see the look on his face when she told him that she was one step closer to the career she’s always wanted. She wanted him to lift her up and spin her around in a circle, laughing in her ear and offering her breathless, genuine congratulations. 

But she doesn’t tell him. She doesn’t talk to him or see him until exactly two weeks and three days after the night of their kiss, when Rey panicked and ran away without a second glance. 

And then, one Friday night at Poe’s house, he’s there. Right in front of her. 

She should’ve known that he would be—Poe is his only friend, and there’s no way that he’d have a party and let Ben get away with not showing up, but that doesn’t make it any less jarring when she walks into the living room and sees him playing beer pong with Finn. 

He’s holding his own, which is surprising, considering his opponent. He stands tall on the opposite side of the table, his elbow bent with the ping pong ball in between his thumb and index finger, and Rey stands, frozen in place by the front door as he tosses it with a perfect arc and dunks it into one of Finn’s middle cups. 

A satisfied smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. “Balls back,” he commands confidently. 

“This is too fucking good,” Rose says from the sidelines, watching the game with sparkling eyes. A beer rests in her palm and she’s shaking her head, somewhat awestruck, as she says, “If you actually beat him, I’m inviting you to our wedding. On fucking _principle._ ” 

“Thanks for the encouragement, _babe_ ,” Finn mutters. 

Rey’s gripping the sixer in her hand like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded to the planet. He hasn’t seen her yet, but it’s only a matter of time. The balls go rolling back to him, and as he catches them both with one hand, his eyes flicker back up to Finn—

And then he spots her. 

All of the cockiness—the muted joy that was knit into his features fades right before her eyes. Ben stands up straight, his jaw clenching, and then he looks away from her and refocuses on his game. Finn and Rose are none the wiser, both still enamored with the imminent, unexpected beer pong defeat. 

Rey forces herself to walk into the solace of the kitchen to put away her beers and take a fucking _breath_. She isn’t sure what she expected—or if she’d been expecting anything—but it sure as shit wasn’t cold indifference, even if that was probably exactly what she deserved. 

But maybe this is good. Maybe it’s better that she understands now how painful it is to lose him before she even had him—it’s a perfect reminder of just how _unbearable_ it would be if she’d let him in for real. It makes her nearly shudder, thinking about the possibility. 

She decides to let it reinforce her decision, and in turn, gives herself permission to at least _try_ to have fun tonight and not wallow in self-pity. After all, this is the path that she chose to take, keeping herself safe and happy in her bubble of arms-length friendships. 

So she moves back to the living room where Jannah, Poe, Kaydel and Mitaka are all playing King’s Cup, and joins them without another glance toward the beer pong table. 

It’s hard to miss when Ben wins, though. Rose practically screams, and Finn’s groan is loud enough to make them all pause their game and rejoice that someone _finally_ beat him. 

Rose reminds Ben that he’s now secured an invite to the wedding, and when Rey sneaks a peek at his reaction, her heart sinks slightly when she notices a sad, hesitant smile. 

Poe leaps up seconds later, demanding to play winner, and then Finn and Rose join them on the couches. Rey plays a full round with her back to Ben, but the laughter that echoes between him and Poe as they carry on is an inescapable sound—one that she misses far more than she is willing to admit, even to herself. She downs one beer and then another, and then one more for good measure before she stands and lets the circle know that she’s in desperate need of some air. No one pays her much mind, waving her off with loving but dismissive hand gestures. 

She walks out to the driveway and slides her back down the garage door, slumping onto the porous concrete and letting out a long, shuddering sigh. 

Surely this will _feel_ like it’s the right decision soon. 

Surely she will look back on this any day now and know that she was being smart—that she wasn’t going to be the person that asked Ben to stay in Mystic instead of going back to his cushy, six figure salary in Manhattan. 

And _surely_ she wasn’t going to be the person that asked to go with him, following him around like a puppy, overstimulated and needy. 

There’s no good options, no choices that make sense, except hers. 

Minutes, maybe hours pass as she sits there in heavy contemplation with her knees pulled to her chest. She’s interrupted by the sound of the front door swinging open, and then she’s suddenly face-to-face with the person that’s turned her life completely upside down. 

Rey lifts up, unsure of what’s to come, but knowing that she wants to be on her feet. 

Whether that’s because she wants to be able to run, or stand her ground, she isn’t sure. 

“Hey,” she says softly as he steps onto the driveway from the front porch. 

“Hi.” 

“How—how are you?” 

Ben shrugs. “Been better.” 

Rey nods, eyes drifting back to the door. “You looked like you were having fun in there.” 

“I was.” 

She looks back at him. “Good. That's good.” 

After a long beat, he says, “Why are you avoiding me?” 

The honest, heart wrenching question makes her breath catch in her throat. She blinks. 

“I—I’m not avoiding you.” 

“Yes, you are. You don’t even run in the mornings anymore.” 

“I’ve been trying out evenings—”

“You _hate_ working out in the evenings.” 

Of course he knows that. At this point, there isn’t much he doesn’t know about her. 

“I’m trying something ne—”

“Rey.” His tone is serious, voice deeper than it was seconds ago. “Please.” 

Rey takes a deep breath, pressing her toes into the ground. “What do you want me to say?” 

For a long moment, he stares at her, not saying a word. His eyes are imploring, forcing thoughts to the surface that she’s been trying to push down. 

Quietly, almost in a whisper, he asks, “What are you so afraid of?” 

She gulps, heavy and hard. Her eyes flutter, every bit of her being starting to stumble.

“I—” 

He looks like he’s preparing for her to say that she doesn’t know, and his face grows immediately impatient. She knows, right then, that she needs to be honest. 

Because she _does_ know. 

“I just don’t see how this can work,” she says. 

Ben blinks a couple of times, that wrinkle in his brow that she’s come to know well returning. 

“Why?” 

“Because you’re leaving!” 

She doesn’t mean for it to come out so loudly, so urgently, so laced with sadness. 

Ben is silent, but she can see it on his face—the shift from surprise at her admission to resignation, knowing that she isn’t _wrong._ Emboldened by the look, Rey continues. 

“Your stay in Mystic has always been temporary, Ben. That’s why you rented a house with a month-to-month lease. Why you’ve been getting status updates from your uncle every day on when he’ll get here. Why you text your assistant constantly, keeping up with everything back at the firm. Because you know that eventually, you’ll be back. In New York. For good.” 

He swallows hard, and then nods. “You’ve got it all figured out then, don’t you?” 

“I just don’t see the point in starting something that we can’t finish. I can’t—” she breaks off, shaking her head. “I _won’t_ do that to myself. Not when I know how much you—” 

“How much I what, Rey?” 

She sighs heavily through her nose. “How much you already mean to me. It—you leaving, us ending things, it would hurt. Too much. I can’t do that to myself. Not with everything else that’s going on in my life.” 

“So that’s it? You make this decision for yourself and I get no say in it?” 

Rey turns, looking out onto the warmly lit street. It’s dead, cleared of its inhabitants, littered only with empty cars. She wishes more than anything that she could be in one of them right now, foot to the gas, driving away from this conversation. 

“I guess so. Unless you’re going to tell me that I’m wrong,” she offers, turning back to him. “That you’re not planning to leave as soon as your uncle gets here.” 

“I—” he starts, and his hesitation makes something inside Rey _almost_ , for one second, hope that he’s about to do just that. But then he shakes his head, and that inkling of hope falls to the pit of her stomach. “I have to go back, Rey. I can’t just up and leave my life there for good. I have—things, responsibilities. People that are counting on me.” 

They hold each other’s gaze for a moment, a thousand things unspoken between them, and then Rey nods. “Well, then. That settles that.” 

Ben reels back as if she’s stung him. “How can you just do that?” 

“What?” 

“That,” he gestures toward her. “Just cut it off, like it was nothing.” 

And because she’s angry with the situation, and afraid of the future, and overwhelmingly _sad,_ she says something that she doesn’t mean in the slightest, because resistance and self-preservation are the only two things she’s ever really been good at. 

“Maybe it was.” 

A quiet, almost imperceptible gasp leaves Ben’s lips, and Rey watches as the hurt washes over his face. His eyes look like they are shining, but she doesn’t get a chance to really see, because he’s turning around to go back inside, leaving her alone in the darkness with a slam of the door.

  
  


_— now —_

  
  


Much to her relief, Snap doesn’t make a scene when Rey returns to their table with her plate. He eats beside her quietly, wolfing down his steak and potatoes while she suffers through painful small talk with Rose’s aunt and uncle from Florida and two of Finn’s friends from college. 

Rose and Finn enter the hall not long after everyone is seated, and share their first dance.

To Ed Sheeran. 

Rey almost groans when the notes start playing through the speakers, because _of course_ they would pick Ed Sheeran—the saps. But when she sees them mouthing the lyrics to each other as they sway back and forth, smiles bright and full of love for each other, Rey feels her eyes get wet. Her gaze flickers to Ben, who is also watching them, and she can see the muscle in his jaw tick every few seconds as he clenches it. 

She wonders what he must be thinking—maybe about the girl from back home. The one that he wanted to bring, but didn’t. Perhaps she’s a lawyer, too, and had a case that she couldn’t get away from. She probably wears Prada and Chanel and looks perfect standing next to him, all manicured and waxed and beautiful. Better than Rey ever could, with her TJ Maxx heels and drugstore lipgloss. Up until recently, she didn’t even know that Loubitin and Louis Vuitton were two different things. It would be comical, her on his arm at some gala or charity dinner that she’s sure he gets invited to all the time. She has no place in that story—she’s a small town orphan with a rusted car and a degree from a state school. 

  
  


Plates are cleared, and the dancing continues as guests start to shuffle onto the floor. Rey manages to steer clear of this activity, choosing instead to remain seated and chat with the people at their table, and then spends some time catching up with Finn's grandparents. When she returns to table eight, her eyes dart to Ben's seat, and she finds it empty. The scan they do around the room is almost involuntary, but it stops when she sees him chatting with Rose's dad. Then, much _much_ to Rey's chagrin, the DJ starts calling out specific tables where guests still linger, and it’s only a matter of time before he shouts at table eight. 

She takes a deep breath and turns to Snap, who has a slight grimace on his lips as he watches everyone dance— _terribly_ —to some Katy Perry song she’s heard on the radio a thousand times. 

“You wanna?” she asks sweetly. 

He’s a little softer when he looks her way, less tense than he had been during dinner. She’s relieved when he nods, and they stand and make their way to the dance floor together. 

She’s never been a great dancer. That much is probably _painfully_ obvious when she starts attempting to move to this song, ignoring the whooping and whistles that she knows are coming from Poe and Finn as she shows off her two left feet. 

Snap is a good sport—he chuckles alongside her and is likely somewhat relieved, because he’s also not the most rhythmically inclined. Together, they clumsily spin around and wave their hands around, doing what they can to fit in with the crowd. 

And then the song fades, and a slower one takes its place. 

Everyone starts to couple up, and Snap offers his hand to her with a kink of his brow. 

Rey nods, stepping into him, and relaxes slightly when she realizes that _this_ is the kind of dancing she can actually do. Rocking back and forth on her feet, stepping back when he steps forward, so on and so forth. 

They make it to the bridge of the song—a Norah Jones classic that Rey has always had a soft spot for—when she catches something out of the corner of her eye.

A lump forms in her throat at the sight. 

He’s leaving. Ben’s leaving. 

She can tell, because he’s standing up and buttoning his jacket, and he waves at Rose and Finn, who are doing table-hops with the guests that aren’t on the dance floor. They’re distracted enough that they don’t try to stop him, and then he’s walking away from it all. Toward the exit. 

Rey feels herself lurch forward, like a reflex she didn't know she had. 

Snap’s grip on her waist stops her, and she looks up at him, blinking rapidly as her thoughts turn into a kaleidoscope of concern and dismay. 

A small, resigned smile tugs at his lips. 

“Go,” he says. 

Rey isn’t sure what he means at first—her brows knit together and she opens her mouth to clarify, but then he shakes his head, his smile growing. 

“It’s fine, Rey. I get it. If my ex were invited to the same wedding as me, I wouldn’t want to go stag either. So, go. It’s okay.” 

She wants to protest, to argue and tell him that Ben isn’t her ex, that he isn’t her anything, even if she, at one point, wanted him to be her _everything_. 

“Snap, I—”

“Look, it’s an open bar. And there’s a dessert table. _And_ I got a free dinner. I’m good. I promise.” 

Rey closes her mouth, shocked at his decency and understanding. Despite all of the little things about him that might’ve rubbed her the wrong way this evening, he’s clearing his name and then some by offering her this out. By letting her not feel guilty down to her bones about wanting to leave him in the dust and run after Ben. 

She doesn’t argue with him, nor does she hesitate any longer. For all she knows, he’s already in his car on the way to the airport. 

“Thank you,” she tells Snap softly, and he nods. 

They leave the dance floor together, and then Rey takes off her heels and _runs._


	6. Chapter 6

Even though she’s sprinting, the journey from the dance floor to the exit seems endless.

There’s an image flickering in the back of her mind with each touch of her bare feet to the cold tile—that humid evening, three weeks after Poe’s party, when Rey discovered that she no longer needed to try to avoid Ben on his morning runs. It wasn’t like she’d run past his house on _purpose_ back then, but it seemed silly to try to avoid his street entirely. The **_FOR RENT_** sign that was posted in his yard was bright red, loud and unmissable as she jogged by, her heart sinking into her stomach at the sight. Of course she’d known that it was going to happen eventually, but she couldn’t escape the feeling that their argument—if that’s what it was—had expedited it. 

That same big, obnoxious red sign is flashing in front of her eyes now, as she pushes the door open, scanning the low-lit parking lot for signs of him. 

When she doesn’t see anyone, it’s all she can do not to give in to the lump in her throat that formed as soon as she realized he was leaving. Because now he’s gone, probably getting onto the freeway and heading toward the airport, and she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt now that he wasn’t here for any other reason than to see Finn and Rose get married. To fulfill an RSVP to an invitation that had been given to him as a half-joke, and—knowing him, he’d probably still bought one of the most expensive things on the registry and RSVPed before anyone else. Of course he would have, because he’s Ben. 

Kind, considerate, thoughtful Ben. 

How ridiculous it was, that some tiny, quiet part of her thought, when he’d shown up without a date, that maybe—just _maybe—_ he was here for her. It was an unfounded wish, one that she didn’t even deserve to make, considering how cruel she’d been to him a year ago. 

Rey wants to scream at the empty parking lot. 

She walks further out, letting the cool pavement seep into her heels, and gives herself a moment to feel it. Tears slip down her cheeks and she can feel more building behind her closed eyes, can feel sobs start to rumble in her throat, aching to be released. 

The girl who’d never been able to give anyone a chance to _know_ her, finally lets someone in and then runs away because she’s too scared of some hypothetical ending. All that time and effort that Ben had put in, carefully chipping away at each of her walls. He’d been gentle with her, delicate in a way that she’d never known. 

And that kiss—the one she hasn’t been able to get out of her mind since the night it happened—it still lingers on her lips just as it had seconds after she’d broken it off. The look in his eyes as he stared at her with panic and fear still lingers, too—the way he’d stood up and reached for her like if he could just _hold_ her, maybe he could keep her from giving up.

The way she’d been one foot out the door, after he’d told her that that was exactly how his father had been—constantly half-loving him and always breaking his heart. 

Knowing all that, every hard, painful detail that he’d given her—and she still pushed him away. 

Of course he left as quickly as he could after that. She can’t blame him in the slightest. 

A downward spiral into self-loathing seems imminent, and Rey’s about two seconds from sinking down onto the cement and sobbing into the velvet of her dress when she hears the door hiss as it opens behind her. When she turns around, her breath catches in her throat. 

Golden beams from the lights in the parking lot shine down in rows of stripes, cutting through the black night and illuminating the space where Ben now stands, stock-still with his keys in hand. He must’ve seen her before he walked out, because there’s a hint of anger in his expression. It’s not sharp—he’s more irritated, perhaps, than anything else. 

Rey blows out a sigh of relief nonetheless, because he’s not in his car on his way to the airport. 

Ben’s here. Right in front of her. 

He blinks a few times. “What are you doing?”

“I saw you walk out.”

He looks impatient. “And?”

Rey swallows thickly. Maybe he _is_ angry with her. 

She understands why. She’s angry with herself. 

When she finally answers him, her voice is small. “Why are you leaving?” 

Ben clenches his jaw. “I don’t dance. And I have an early flight.” 

“But—” 

“What does it matter to you? You seemed to be having fun with your date.”

Rey sighs. “It was the least I could do after I completely forgot his name.”

He doesn’t reply to this, just keeps his eyes on hers—burning and bellowing. 

In a very-Rey attempt to soften the situation further, she looks away from him and shrugs before supplying, “And anyway, he’s just—”

“What?” Ben cuts in, and Rey snaps her gaze back to him. 

It’s like she’s frozen in place, mouth hanging open. 

“He’s just what, Rey?” 

She lets out a breath. “He’s just a friend. And he knows that.”

Ben nods slowly. Evenly, he asks, “And he wants that?” 

“It doesn’t matter. It’s what I want.”

Ben’s eyes fall to the pavement. “Well, that’s great,” he says, somewhat quietly. “You always were great at the whole _friend_ thing.”

It stings—she deserves it, but that doesn’t make it any less hurtful. Truth hurts, right? Hadn’t he told her that, all those months ago?

Rey bites her lip, attempting to be braver than she actually feels. It’s now or fucking _never_. He’s got an early flight, and his anger is too prevalent right now for her to maintain any sort of pride or shame. If there’s _any_ hope—any sliver of possibility that she could have him back, even if it may never be how it once was, she’s got to take the leap. 

She’s got to finally stop being so goddamn afraid. 

“I didn’t mean it.”

Ben looks up, but doesn’t say anything. It’s quiet, too quiet between them. He isn’t budging, isn’t going to fill in any blanks for her. He never has. It’s something she loves—

_Breathe_ , she demands of herself. One step at a time. 

Rey sucks in a deep breath and says, “When I said that it was nothing. Back at Poe’s. I didn’t mean that. You—” She takes a step closer. “You have to know I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

He works his jaw, no less tense than he was when he walked outside. Her words have made it to his ears, but they’ve stopped there.

He doesn’t believe her.

He’s tense, his voice equally so when he asks, “Why are you telling me this now?”

Rey blurts immediately, “Because, I—”

But then there’s that look again. In his eyes. She knows it well. It’s the one that tells her she better be honest, because if she isn’t, he will see right through her. It’s not even like he actively _tries_ to decipher when she’s being authentic—he just has a sense for her. Always has, from the moment they met. It’s unnerving.

It’s mostly unnerving how much she doesn’t hate it.

“Because when I saw this dress at the mall, I thought of you. I bought it—because I wanted you to see me in it. Because you told me once that I looked amazing in green, and I wanted…I wanted to look amazing for you tonight. Even if we were both going to be here with other people.”

Finally—finally, a crack in his armor shows as he reels back, surprised at her sudden candor.

“Because I’ve walked through my entire life thinking that being alone is easier than risking getting hurt. I thought that it would be better for us, if I let you go—if I pushed you away, instead of letting myself fall in love with you and then losing you, one way or another.”

He hasn’t moved—he just stares, nostrils flaring. His chest is rising and falling with more force than before, and his fists are clenched at his sides.

Rey breathes through a small, slightly sad smile. “Now, I realize that sometimes it’s okay to take risks with your heart. Even if it scares the shit out of you. And I am, Ben. I’m scared shitless.”

Tears start to well over her eyes again, but she soldiers on, the floodgates fully open now.

“I’m scared that I’ll fall in love with you and then you’ll leave me, or cheat on me, or die in a fucking plane crash. I’m scared that you’ll realize sooner or later that I’m damaged beyond repair and hit the road—I’m terrified that I’m going to need you and one day you won’t be there. And I…” she breaks off, swallowing hard. “I’m scared that you’re about to tell me that you—that you’ve moved on. That I ruined everything and you don’t want this—or me, anymore. ”

He doesn’t correct her, or assuage her worry. He stands there, staring at her with all the composure she’s surely lacking. It feels like hours pass in silence, with him just _looking_ at her, the words she’s just vomited all over him hanging heavily between them. 

A couple guests walk out of the venue arm in arm, completely unaware. Rey almost envies them—their blissful obliviousness. They’re laughing as they walk toward their car, and then they get in, leaving Ben and Rey alone in the lot once again. 

With his silence continuing, she considers calling it a day, closing up shop and running away with her tail between her legs. 

Then Ben sighs, shaking his head slowly. 

“I quit my job.”

He lets the words sit with her for a moment, and she watches his eyes flicker down her dress. 

Rey’s breath stutters.

“That night—when you told me why you didn’t want to try, I was going to tell you that quitting was what I wanted. What I needed to do. And not just for you, or us. It had been something I’d been considering for a while, and being here, with you—it made everything back home seem so trivial. Needless. I was working more than I was living, and I wasn’t happy.”

Rey’s mouth hangs open, stunned. “But why—”

He cuts her off. “You were so fucking _quick_ to quit, Rey. To turn your back on us like—” he shakes his head, a joyless smile on his lips. “Like we were nothing.”

The words strike her right through the heart. She blinks out a tear as they leave his lips, harsh and sad. “I’m sorry, Ben. I’m so sorry.” She shakes her head, furiously blinking away the wetness that continues to form in her eyes. “I don’t know how to do this—I’m shit at this, at relationships and love and being brave and—”

He takes a step forward, almost closing the distance between them. It shuts her up mid-sentence, and Rey’s fingers itch with the proximity. His cologne fills her nose, making her nearly sigh at the warmth and familiarity of it. She looks down at her feet, inches from his now, still bare atop the concrete. Her purple toenails shine under the dull glow of the overhead lights. 

“I’m scared too, you know.”

Rey peeks up at him and finds that his eyes have grown soft. The way they used to be when they looked at her. Something wild and hopeful blooms in her chest.

“You are?”

He nods slowly. “I’m always scared. That I won’t be a good enough son, or nephew, or friend. That I won’t find a job that makes me happy. That I—” He steps into her, their chests almost flush. “That I won’t ever get to kiss you again.” His eyes trail down her face to her lips. 

Rey practically whimpers. “You’ve thought about—”

“It’s all I think about. You’re all I think about. And then you show up tonight in...this,” his gaze travels down to her dress again, and she watches as he sucks in a deep, gravely breath. When he finally finds her eyes again, he looks completely _wrecked._ “You’re beautiful.”

A breath escapes from her lips like he’d physically pulled it out of her. Rey gulps, her eyes searching his for confirmation that this is actually happening. Her tears have dried on her cheeks—they feel tight when she lets a small smile spread across her face. 

“You can, you know,” she says quietly.

Ben’s looking down at her with growing fondness, it builds with each passing second—that same thoughtful reverence. She missed being on the receiving end of that look. 

“What’s that?” he asks, equally as soft. 

Rey bites her bottom lip. “Kiss me again.” 

Ben hums, and then lifts his hands, pushing his fingers into her hair. It’s been hours since she styled it, so it’s loose enough now that he can thread them through, and his dull nails against her scalp make her eyelids flutter. He leans down, but not far enough for his lips to hit hers. Instead, he presses a soft, warm kiss to her forehead, and Rey lets her eyes shut completely as she lets out a long, heavy exhale. 

It feels like she’s been holding it since the day she saw that sign in his yard. 

He lingers there for a long moment, then leans down further and presses sweet, gentle pecks to each of her closed eyelids. Rey’s mouth falls open, her head leaning back into his hands. Ben kisses the apples of her cheeks, dragging his lips over her skin. They turn wet when he hits the line of her jaw, and her breath hitches when she feels the slightest touch of his tongue. Her hands land on his forearms in an attempt to ground herself before her knees buckle. His mouth leaves her skin, but her eyes stay closed, still lost in the feeling of being so close to him again, so achingly intimate. 

“Look at me.” 

Her eyes slowly blink open. They meet his, and Rey wants to melt right into him at the sight. The wanting, the needing, the burning in them—it’s almost too much to bear. 

_Almost_. 

“Tell me you want this,” he says roughly. 

“I want this.” She says it automatically, words piling right on top of his. 

“Tell me you won’t run away again.” On the last word, when his voice almost breaks, Rey tightens her grip on his arms. Her thumbs rub the exposed skin. 

Resolutely, she says, “I won’t run away again.” And then, after a beat, “I promise.” 

Ben nods slowly, letting her words wash over him. 

Then he descends. 

When his lips finally meet hers, Rey’s eyes flutter closed again. Ben’s hands are on either side of her face now, and when he licks the seam of her mouth and gains entrance, he sighs, deep and rumbling. Rey feels it go straight to her belly and below, and she leans into him, promptly removing any space between them until their bodies are completely flush. One of Ben’s arms snakes around her waist, pulling her in even tighter, and Rey’s twine around his neck as she lifts onto her tiptoes. She gets lost—completely gone in the heat of his kiss. The tentativeness that lingered during their first kiss has vanished; Ben’s mouth is confident and devastating all at once, and Rey’s brows pinch together as the throbbing pleasure deep in her belly and between her legs threatens to pull her under. 

They could’ve been in a room full of people, and she wouldn’t have noticed. The only sounds to be heard are the panting breaths escaping their nostrils, and the deep hums in Ben’s throat when he delves further into her mouth. It’s a feeling she wants to get used to—the entire world disappearing except for _them_ — 

“Well, it’s about _goddamn_ time!” A familiar voice cuts through the quiet. 

Ben breaks away from her, pressing his forehead against hers. They’re both breathing hard, and when Rey slowly blinks her eyes open, she finds him smiling. 

“I’m going to kill him,” Rey grumbles, turning on her heel to see Poe standing at the entrance to the venue. He’s got a stupidly large grin on his face and a beer raised in the air as he stands next to Hux, who looks unsurprisingly apathetic as he blows out a massive cloud of vape smoke. Poe, undeterred by Rey’s scowl, whoops and starts shouting _ow, ow!_ from across the way.

Rey rolls her eyes and turns back to Ben, grabbing his left wrist to look at his watch. 

There’s only an hour or so left of the celebration, but she knows that if she leaves without saying goodbye, Rose will never let her hear the end of it. She sighs, letting his hand fall back to his side as she lifts her chin, finding his soft gaze. She immediately wants to kiss him again. 

And again. And again.

In lieu of that, she says, “I have to go say goodbye to Rose and Finn or I’m pretty sure they’ll rescind their offer to make me godmother of their firstborn.” 

Ben nods. “I’ll be here.” 

  
  


Rey smiles at that. “Good. I won’t be long.” 

She reaches down and pulls her shoes back onto her feet, holding Ben’s hand to keep herself upright. Once they’re secured, she’s about to turn away and head back inside, but instead she pauses, smiling to herself before she whirls into him, colliding softly with his chest. She presses her lips to his, and it’s more chaste a kiss than the first, a quick acknowledgement, but Rey sighs into it nonetheless. It’s just as hard to pull away as it was before, but she manages. 

Ben’s smile when she does is cheeky. “Go on, then,” he says, voice deep and gravelly. 

She nods, and as much as she doesn’t want to, finally turns away, leaving him in the parking lot. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Oh my god, _yes_. I am a genius. You will be forever indebted to me for this, you know that right?” Rose shouts over the music, a shit-eating grin plastered over her face. They’re standing at the edge of the dance floor, and Rey is already regretting telling Rose that she and Ben have made up, _kissed_ , and are now leaving together. Her best friend, beautiful in her wedding dress and dewy with sweat from dancing and drinking, is absolutely ecstatic. 

“Whatever you say,” Rey gripes back, shaking her head. “You won’t be angry if I leave now?” 

“Angry? Are you fucking kidding me? Why do you think I sat you two as ‘next to each other’ as I could get away with?” Rose throws her hands up, as if it should’ve been completely obvious. 

“Well, thanks—I guess,” Rey says, half-amused and half-confused at Rose’s adamance. 

“You’re welcome. Now go—the only thing you’re going to miss is the bouquet throw and…” Rose kinks an eyebrow playfully, leaning in. Rey follows, and then rolls her eyes _hard_ when Rose says, “I think you’ve already caught yours.” 

Rey chuckles, pulling away, and shakes her head. “You’re ridiculous.” 

Rose shrugs animatedly. “Ridiculous but also a genius, obviously.” 

“Obviously.” 

A flash of seriousness blooms on Rose’s face, and echoes onto Rey’s. It fades into her smile quickly, making it less amused and more genuinely _happy._ She reaches out and grips Rey’s forearm. “You deserve this, Rey. You deserve to be happy. Now go.” 

Rey takes in a deep breath. “I love you. Congratulations.” 

“I love you more,” Rose says back, and when Rey lingers for a second longer, she starts to sweep her away with her hands. “Get out of here!” 

“Okay, okay, I’m going!” 

And then Rey’s off, walking with purposeful steps to the double doors, her heart completely full. 


	7. Chapter 7

Ben’s hand is on her thigh the whole way home. 

She hadn’t forgotten how big his hands were but—seeing them now, up close, splayed out over her entire thigh, is enough to make her mouth water. 

He’s staying with his mother, so they’re going back to Rey’s instead, and she’s already texted Jannah suggesting that she should stay at Poe’s tonight if at _all_ possible. When Jannah texts her back with five water droplets and about twenty eggplant emojis, Rey bites her lip through a giddy smile. Ben sees her, peeking over with a sidelong glance, and squeezes her leg. 

Leading him through her house provokes a feeling of nostalgia she didn’t expect—it’s the first time he’s been here since the night they met, when she’d almost thrown him out of her kitchen. A tiny smile tugs at her lips as they walk by it now, dimly lit from the stove light, empty of partygoers. She looks back at him and asks softly, “Want a drink?” 

“No, I’m good,” he says. “Thank you.” 

“A snack?” 

Ben smirks. “No, thanks.” 

His hand is in hers, their fingers laced together. They both know what they’re walking toward—her bedroom, their future—the beginning of everything, the end of their time spent apart. Happiness that radiates in Rey’s chest, and it is nothing short of incandescent. 

When they reach her door, she turns around fully and her back hits the wood as Ben closes in on her, eyes hooded and nearly black. He leans down, his mouth finding the delicate skin of her neck, and Rey automatically tilts her head to give him better access. When his tongue darts out to the sensitive spot behind her ear, she sighs and rolls her hips into his. There’s a massive bulge in his pants that she rubs against, moaning at the newfound friction, and Ben blows out a breath before sinking his teeth lightly into her neck. He reaches behind her and opens the bedroom door, holding her steady as he walks them both inside. 

Rey learns quickly that he’s fond of teasing her, like when he _almost_ kisses her but decides instead to flip her around, pulling her back flush against his chest. When she feels his hands reaching up at her nape to unclasp her dress, she hums happily. He pulls the zipper down slowly, then slides the material over her shoulders. 

As it falls to the ground, she hears a husky gasp falls from his lips. 

She’s completely naked—chose not to wear underwear or a bra, a decision she’s thanking herself for now. Though she’s bared to him in a way she’s never been, in a way she’s been few times _ever_ , she doesn’t feel self-conscious. Doesn’t even feel the urge to cover herself, and Ben seems to agree wholeheartedly, if his hands roaming up her torso to cup her breasts is any indication. Rey lets her head fall back onto his shoulder, pushing her chest into his hands. 

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” Ben rasps, kneading her. His tongue licks up her neck, back to that spot behind her ear that makes her see stars. She presses her ass into his groin, relishing in the way his breathing shudders as she rubs against him. 

“Tell me what you want,” he commands, but it’s gentle, almost a whisper. 

“You,” Rey sighs. “Always you.” 

Ben _growls_ at that, reaching one hand down to cup her center. One of his thick fingers traces her slit, and she feels his head fall into the crook of her shoulder. He sighs. “So wet, baby,” he says breathlessly. “So wet for me.” 

Rey nods, over and over again, and then her mouth drops wide open when Ben dips under her hood and finds her clit, tracing the nub lightly. He pants in her ear, and when she feels his middle finger ease its way inside of her to the knuckle, she doesn’t even try to suppress her moan. There’s no use in it anymore. It—this— _he_ feels too good. 

“Ben,” Rey sighs. 

He thrusts his hips into her backside, causing them both to cry out. “You want me?” he asks, all deep and broken. There’s a vulnerability laced into his tone that squeezes at her heart. 

She’s so keyed up at this point that she could almost _cry_ , but she manages to nod.

“How much?” 

Rey’s mouth starts to go dry. “So much, Ben. For so long I—” 

He adds another finger without warning, using his thumb to swipe over her clit. Rey cries out, feeling herself tumbling toward the edge of _something—_ it’s just outside of her reach now, but with each press of his fingers inside of her, each scrape of the tips against her g-spot, she gets closer and closer, ready to fall at any moment. Ben bites into her shoulder and adds a third, the sopping wetness of her center allowing him easy entry. He groans as he fucks her with his fingers, holding her body as tightly against his own as he possibly can. 

“I know exactly what you mean, sweetheart," he tells her. "Come for me,” he commands seconds later, pushing harder into her. “Come for me so I can fuck you the way I’ve wanted to for _months._ ” 

He doesn’t have to tell her again—at his words, she comes and comes and _comes_ , spasming around his fingers as her mouth hangs open in a silent cry. He keeps his ministrations going, working her through her entire orgasm and prolonging the pleasure for what feels like _hours._ When she finally settles back down to earth, she’s panting, about ready to double over, but Ben doesn’t let her fall. He turns her around gently, pressing kisses to her face, and then holds her cheeks in soft, careful hands as he stares down at her.

She must look wrecked—flushed and sweaty, blissed out with hair everywhere, but it doesn’t seem to matter to him. He stares at her with unabashed adoration, and with her heart still pounding, she launches up to kiss him, throwing her entire body into his and smiling against his mouth. 

Ben gives as good as he gets, reaching down to cup her ass with both hands before lifting her up, all the while keeping his mouth on hers. Rey wraps her legs tightly around his waist as their tongues roll against each other, leaving sparks in their wake and making them both groan. Slowly, he lowers her down to the bed, resting between her legs as he kisses and kisses her. Fire licks in her veins, rushing quickly down to her groin. 

His mouth stays firmly attached to hers as he unbuttons his white dress shirt, the black jacket that was hanging deliciously on his shoulders already haphazardly thrown away somewhere in her room. Rey pushes the material off of him once it’s loosened, and his skin is burning under her hands. She digs her nails into his back in response to a particularly rough thrust of his clothed cock against her center, and Ben breaks away from her mouth to exhale roughly. 

“Condom?” he asks against her lips. 

Rey shakes her head. “On the pill—so, if you want—” 

Ben pulls back slightly, looking at her with wide, hopeful eyes. “I want.” 

She nods, and his hands move to his belt. His pants are halfway down his thighs when he pulls himself free of his boxers, and Rey almost gasps. It’s the first time she’s ever seen it—and even though she’s still soaked from coming and all of his dizzying kisses, she’s certain that even all that slickness can’t prepare her for the enormity of Ben’s cock. It’s long and thick, dripping with precum from the darkened head, and it’s all she can do to not lick her lips at the sight. 

He must notice, because he slides it through her folds with gusto, and Rey watches as his eyes flutter shut. He wets himself with her, mouth hanging open, and it isn’t until she pushes her hands into his hair that he finally opens his eyes and looks down at her, whiskey-colored orbs full of wonder. 

“I’ve thought about this,” he grits out, the blunt head of him probing her entrance. “So many fucking times. The way I would fuck you—how you’d look when you came on my cock.” 

Rey picks her head up to kiss him, and she tugs on his bottom lip with her teeth before releasing it and whispering, “Let me show you,” into his mouth. 

“ _Fuck_.” Ben breathes, sliding into her with a sigh and his forehead pressed against hers. 

It’s a tight fit. Even though she’s drenched, he’s _massive_ , and when he’s finally in to the hilt, Rey lets her head fall back down to the mattress as she takes a slow, centering breath. Ben presses soft, sweet kisses across her neck and collarbone, knowing instinctively that she needs a second to adjust to the stretch. When he sucks on that spot near her ear, she feels herself grow wetter, clenching around him and moaning at the feeling of being absolutely _full._

“Oh, fuck, Rey,” he says into her skin, pulling out a couple of inches and then sinking all the way back in. “I knew you’d feel good—but this—” 

He’s stumbling for words as he pulls out again, further this time, and Rey’s mouth falls open when he pushes back in with more force than before. All of her discomfort starts to dissipate, fading more and more with each new thrust of his hips. Ben snakes one strong arm under her back, pulling her into his chest as he pumps into her, pulling nearly all the way out just to slam back in. Rey presses her head further into the mattress as she moans loudly, amazed at the feeling brewing under her skin as he moves inside of her. 

“ _Ben._ ” 

He leans down and runs his teeth over her jaw, panting as he fucks her. “Is this what you wanted? Is this what you thought about?” 

Rey’s eyes fall shut as she nods. 

“Tell me.” 

She digs her teeth into her bottom lip, unsure how to even _think_ right now, but she somehow manages to oblige. “It’s—it’s all that I wanted,” she sighs. “And more. It’s everything—” she picks up her head, letting her eyes slowly blink open. “You’re everything.” 

His nostrils flare as his hips slow, and for a long moment, they just stare at each other. 

“For me, too,” he says softly. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted.” 

Tears start to well in Rey’s eyes as Ben’s free hand comes to her face, pushing strands of her loose hair back before leaning down to kiss her with sensual, languid lips. He licks into her mouth unhurriedly, grunts sounding in his throat as he continues to pump into her. 

“Want you to come,” he bites out, hips picking up their pace again. 

Rey nods, wrapping her arms around his neck. His pelvis pushes against her clit with each thrust, but it’s not quite enough to get her there—something Ben seems to understand without being told. He reaches down to find the swollen nub again, and when he swipes at it with his thick index finger, Rey cries out, loud enough that she’s thankful no one else is home besides them. 

She clenches around him _hard_ as he rubs her, and Ben’s head falls to the crook of her neck. 

“Rey—baby—” he grunts out, slamming into her. 

The orgasm builds slower than the first one he gave her, but the break, the eruption itself is a thousand times more intense with him buried deep inside of her. She squeezes her eyes shut as it blossoms and bleeds everywhere, through every fucking _inch_ of her, and her head falls back as her arms go rigid around him. She can barely take in a breath, but once she’s able to, she nearly screams as it continues to wash over her, wave after wave crashing and carrying her to a place that she’s certain she’s never been. 

“Ben—Ben, Ben, _Ben_ ,” she moans as it starts to ebb, holding onto him as tightly as she can. 

At the sound of his name, a broken moan leaves his mouth as he thrusts into her once more and buries himself as far as he can go, painting her inner walls with his come. She’s never let anyone finish inside of her before—but she understands now, how people can get turned on by just the _thought_ of it. Ben coats her with warmth, filling her up to the brim until she can feel his spend start to drip out of her. He pulls out nearly all the way before pushing fully back in, and the idea of him pressing it all back into her makes her _throb_.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans in her ear as she grips him. 

Rey giggles, sated and warm in his arms. He picks up his head to press featherlight kisses into her cheek, and then he rolls off of her, pulling her with him so she’s snug against his side. 

The streetlights of the neighborhood that used to be theirs, and maybe could be again someday, shine into her room through the cracked blinds. They cast a warm glow around everything, leaving splotches of dark blue and gold. Rey wraps her arm around Ben’s middle and rests her head against his chest, squeezing him tighter as she thinks about how lucky she is that this won’t be the last time they do this. Not by a long shot. 

They fall asleep like that—holding each other and breathing in tandem amidst the lowlight. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


The next morning, Rey wakes up in an empty bed with the smell of bacon wafting into her room. When she looks at her phone, she sees that it’s almost nine—surely past whatever time Ben’s flight must’ve been. But much to her relief, his stuff is still scattered about her room, and she _knows_ it’s not Jannah making breakfast. Rey rolls out of bed and pulls on Ben’s discarded shirt, buttoning as many as she needs to remain somewhat decent, and makes her way into the kitchen to find him standing in front of her stove, naked save for his black briefs. 

He looks absolutely delectable in the bright morning light, his back muscles rippling each time he pushes around whatever is in front of him. Rey bites the inside of her cheek, leaning against the archway that opens into the kitchen, wholly enjoying the view. 

Eventually, he turns around, and the way his face lights up when he sees her sends shooting pangs of unadulterated _joy_ through her entire body. 

It’s like she remembers, right then, that this man—this gorgeous, wonderful man—is _hers_.

“Morning,” he says with a raspy, sleepy voice. He walks over to press a light, sweet kiss to her lips, which she’s sure he intended to be quick, but she can’t help herself—she reaches for his face, pulling him in, relishing in the feeling of his mouth on hers again. The night comes back to her in flashes, and she blushes as they break apart.

Did he have any idea, the pleasure he’d given her? Did he know how safe and loved she felt in his arms? 

She’d have to tell him. She’d have to tell him everything. 

“Hungry?” he asks, and she nods eagerly. 

They eat in comfortable silence with Rey legs draped over Ben’s lap. She scrapes the last bits of her scrambled eggs from her plate, leaving no delicious, salty bit uneaten, and when she’s satisfied, she leans back to find him watching her. That fondness is there again, and Rey feels it creeping onto her face, too, her cheeks starting to pinch from all this newfound _smiling._

“So your flight,” she says finally, and Ben’s smile doesn’t waver. 

“My flight,” he repeats, nodding. “I missed it.” 

She giggles. “I see that.” 

He grins, all crooked teeth and deep dimples, and rubs a big hand over her calves. A wave of seriousness creeps into his expression, and Rey watches him set his jaw. 

“I don’t really have a plan. I was gonna go back and see if staying in New York was what I should do, but—” he trails off, kinking a brow. 

“But?” 

The smirk returns, and Rey’s heart flutters. “But things change.” 

Rey sits up a little straighter. “You can stay here as long as you want, Ben. And if you do decide to go back, I can visit—we can FaceTime and text, and—” 

A wrinkle in his brow makes her stop, but then it dawns on her, and she grins. 

“Right. I forgot. You absolutely _cannot_ FaceTime me from that abomination you call a phone.” 

Ben laughs and pinches her leg, and Rey squeals. “I guess I’ll just have to get a new phone then, won’t I?” 

“Alert the presses!” Rey yells to no one in particular. “We must remember this day!” 

He stands and starts tickling her immediately, and she’s laughing and writhing so hard that she almost falls out of her chair, but Ben lifts her up into his arms before she can hit the ground. She wraps her legs around his waist as she pants, flushed from the activity and smiling like an idiot. 

“Maybe you could come with me,” he says softly, once they’ve both caught their breath. 

When she hesitates, thinking about her promotion and PTO and the uncertainty of it all, Ben cuts her thoughts off, somehow knowing the road that they’ve taken. 

“Just so I can get my affairs in order. Put the apartment up for rent, sell my car, all that.” 

Rey swallows thickly. “I could do that. What—” she rubs her lips together, hope burning bright in her chest. “What happens after that?”

The smile that spreads onto his lips is easy. Slow and self-assured. 

“I don’t know. I really don’t. Nothing about my life is certain right now except how I feel about you. And if that means we live here, or we live in Florida, or Canada, or Spain—I don’t care. As long as I’m with you, I don’t care, Rey.” 

Those errant, unpredictable tears are welling in her eyes again as she leans forward to kiss him. A few drop onto her cheeks as her lips fold over his, and she sniffles when they break apart. 

In a watery, half-broken voice, she says, “We’re definitely not moving to Florida.” 

Ben laughs, and then pulls her into him, hugging her tight. 

She breathes him in, eyes falling shut as he squeezes her, and for the first time in her entire life, she isn’t afraid of the future. 


End file.
